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 Slovakia and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 8 Eyed Spy to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Invisible record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band 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?
The Sonics,
MC5,
Pere Ubu,
Carl Craig,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Pop Group,
The Sound,
The Smiths,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wasted Youth,
Eurythmics,
Funkadelic,
Goldenarms,
Intrusion,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Newcleus,
The Fall,
Icehouse,
Max Romeo,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mad Mike,
David McCallum,
Quando Quango,
Young Marble Giants,
Malaria!,
Guru Guru,
Hoover,
James Chance & The Contortions,
E-Dancer,
The Last Poets,
Fear,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sugar Minott,
Sexual Harrassment,
Amazonics,
Idris Muhammad,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Seeds,
Lightning Bolt,
Talk Talk,
Donald Byrd,
Thompson Twins,
Roy Ayers,
JFA,
Negative Approach,
PIL,
The Walker Brothers,
the Slits,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pylon,
The Gladiators,
Janne Schatter,
The Knickerbockers,
The Real Kids,
Yellowson,
Blossom Toes,
The Index,
Freddie Wadling,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.