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 Hungary and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Edmonton.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet 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 UT to the funk 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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Livin' Joy,
The Dirtbombs,
EPMD,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Model 500,
Joyce Sims,
The Move,
New York Dolls,
Newcleus,
Country Teasers,
Nirvana,
Connie Case,
Rekid,
The Walker Brothers,
Bauhaus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boz Scaggs,
Metal Thangz,
The Cure,
Rosa Yemen,
The Standells,
Scrapy,
Blancmange,
Susan Cadogan,
Cecil Taylor,
Niagra,
The Cramps,
the Human League,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Motorama,
Man Eating Sloth,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers,
Lou Reed,
Heaven 17,
DJ Sneak,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Fuzztones,
June Days,
Boredoms,
Peter & Gordon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mandrill,
The Raincoats,
The United States of America,
Cluster,
Dark Day,
Slave,
The Victims,
Bobby Byrd,
Unwound,
Sexual Harrassment,
Unrelated Segments,
Avey Tare,
Don Cherry,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.