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 Korea South and from Edmonton.
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 Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Count Five,
Brick,
Cecil Taylor,
Fat Boys,
The Moody Blues,
Lou Christie,
Alton Ellis,
Bootsy Collins,
Harry Pussy,
Ultra Naté,
Clear Light,
Flash Fearless,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Dirtbombs,
The Litter,
JFA,
Severed Heads,
Wally Richardson,
The Monks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
MC5,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Saints,
Lower 48,
Donald Byrd,
Negative Approach,
48th St. Collective,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Steve Hackett,
David McCallum,
Jacques Brel,
The Cowsills,
Vladislav Delay,
Oblivians,
Jawbox,
Von Mondo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Siglo XX,
The Last Poets,
Tears for Fears,
June Days,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ronnie Foster,
The Black Dice,
Scratch Acid,
Swans,
The Sonics,
Wolf Eyes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Can,
Rotary Connection,
Pagans,
Deepchord,
Adolescents,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bill Near,
Cybotron,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.