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 Congo and from Madrid.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Lou Christie to the punk 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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Pantaleimon,
Freddie Wadling,
Severed Heads,
Gerry Rafferty,
Graham Central Station,
Althea and Donna,
The United States of America,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liliput,
Warsaw,
Hashim,
Ohio Players,
Crispy Ambulance,
Wings,
PIL,
Black Pus,
Crispian St. Peters,
Al Stewart,
Subhumans,
Popol Vuh,
Index,
Mars,
June Days,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lyres,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Schoolly D,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Yellowson,
L. Decosne,
Niagra,
Black Sheep,
Aloha Tigers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bootsy Collins,
Donny Hathaway,
Sonny Sharrock,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Warren Ellis,
Angry Samoans,
Main Source,
Deadbeat,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Robert Görl,
Public Image Ltd.,
10cc,
Cameo,
Henry Cow,
Tears for Fears,
World's Most,
Colin Newman,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Y Pants,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Grauzone,
Sällskapet,
John Lydon,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.