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 Peru 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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rekid to the grunge 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Silicon Teens,
L. Decosne,
Ponytail,
Al Stewart,
The Techniques,
The Busters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cybotron,
Skriet,
Scrapy,
The American Breed,
Stetsasonic,
June of 44,
Television,
Yusef Lateef,
The Moleskins,
Bill Wells,
E-Dancer,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Can,
Fear,
The Gladiators,
Circle Jerks,
The Mojo Men,
Josef K,
Outsiders,
Cameo,
Rapeman,
Skarface,
Soul II Soul,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jacques Brel,
Black Pus,
Ultra Naté,
Deadbeat,
The Pop Group,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sonny Sharrock,
Piero Umiliani,
China Crisis,
MDC,
The Star Department,
Nick Fraelich,
Fugazi,
LL Cool J,
The Fuzztones,
Delon & Dalcan,
Khruangbin,
New Age Steppers,
Ronnie Foster,
Robert Hood,
The Knickerbockers,
The Electric Prunes,
Intrusion,
Icehouse,
Sex Pistols,
Rakim,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.