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 Egypt and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Flash Fearless to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
T. Rex,
Simply Red,
Aaron Thompson,
The Fire Engines,
The Remains,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ken Boothe,
Little Man,
Aloha Tigers,
Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Laurel Aitken,
Radiohead,
Smog,
The Fugs,
Skriet,
Lalo Schifrin,
Icehouse,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Offenders,
The Barracudas,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Black Dice,
Vladislav Delay,
Camberwell Now,
Bill Near,
Sight & Sound,
Matthew Bourne,
Average White Band,
Erasure,
Radio Birdman,
Mars,
kango's stein massive,
Tres Demented,
The J.B.'s,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gang Gang Dance,
H. Thieme,
Deakin,
Kerri Chandler,
Depeche Mode,
Ossler,
Harry Pussy,
Half Japanese,
New Order,
Blancmange,
Rosa Yemen,
Zero Boys,
The Pretty Things,
Au Pairs,
Nico,
Thee Headcoats,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Rod Modell,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.