Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Vanuatu and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Saints to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Buckinghams record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Radio Birdman,
James White and The Blacks,
Mandrill,
Magma,
Pagans,
Iggy Pop,
Hardrive,
Cheater Slicks,
Pantaleimon,
Juan Atkins,
Mark Hollis,
Harmonia,
Das Ding,
Slick Rick,
Rufus Thomas,
Nirvana,
Peter and Kerry,
Television Personalities,
Judy Mowatt,
Q and Not U,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Searchers,
Glambeats Corp.,
48th St. Collective,
Faraquet,
the Slits,
Chris Corsano,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
New York Dolls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bush Tetras,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eric Copeland,
Tears for Fears,
The Doors,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Alphaville,
Au Pairs,
The New Christs,
Quando Quango,
Steve Hackett,
The Cure,
Jeff Lynne,
Zapp,
Funky Four + One,
Connie Case,
Josef K,
Lightning Bolt,
Lalann,
Ornette Coleman,
Letta Mbulu,
Siglo XX,
Skriet,
Erasure,
the Human League,
China Crisis,
Sparks,
The Red Krayola,
Kas Product,
Sonic Youth,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.