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 Manchester.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Nation of Ulysses to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Steve Hackett,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lungfish,
Jacques Brel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Severed Heads,
The Real Kids,
Glambeats Corp.,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Fortunes,
John Holt,
Buzzcocks,
Surgeon,
Blake Baxter,
Chris Corsano,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Flash Fearless,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Standells,
The Invisible,
Angry Samoans,
Graham Central Station,
MDC,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Roxy Music,
Infiniti,
Isaac Hayes,
Second Layer,
Oneida,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Theoretical Girls,
The Black Dice,
World's Most,
The Detroit Cobras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Erykah Badu,
Ornette Coleman,
Susan Cadogan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Juan Atkins,
The Human League,
The Names,
Parry Music,
Joe Finger,
Bootsy Collins,
Sister Nancy,
Sparks,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gabor Szabo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Althea and Donna,
Rufus Thomas,
Gerry Rafferty,
a-ha,
Easy Going,
Zapp,
Trumans Water,
Silicon Teens,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.