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 Libya and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Glasgow.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 John Cale to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things 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 Fugs,
Flamin' Groovies,
H. Thieme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Gun Club,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Slackers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rod Modell,
Das Ding,
Pharoah Sanders,
Masters at Work,
Kurtis Blow,
Buzzcocks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sound Behaviour,
Circle Jerks,
The Remains,
8 Eyed Spy,
Al Stewart,
John Holt,
Kenny Larkin,
The United States of America,
The Moody Blues,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Smoke,
The Standells,
Duran Duran,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Moleskins,
Max Romeo,
The Dead C,
the Bar-Kays,
Mark Hollis,
Tim Buckley,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
John Cale,
Angry Samoans,
UT,
Altered Images,
The Walker Brothers,
The Cramps,
Soul Sonic Force,
The American Breed,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Negative Approach,
Althea and Donna,
JFA,
Deadbeat,
Sex Pistols,
the Soft Cell,
Excepter,
Niagra,
The Move,
Swans,
Oblivians,
R.M.O.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.