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 Iceland and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Robert Palmer 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 Sparks to the grime 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 Lou Reed. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sarah Menescal,
Nik Kershaw,
Model 500,
The Standells,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Association,
Bob Dylan,
Technova,
Josef K,
Crooked Eye,
Dorothy Ashby,
Altered Images,
Fugazi,
Ronan,
Marc Almond,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Neon Judgement,
Maurizio,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Neil Young,
The Martian,
The Seeds,
Royal Trux,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cameo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jeff Lynne,
Zero Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The American Breed,
Q and Not U,
The Monks,
The Five Americans,
Man Parrish,
X-102,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Star Department,
The Real Kids,
Scion,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Trumans Water,
Amazonics,
Sun City Girls,
Television,
Sound Behaviour,
Gregory Isaacs,
Echospace,
Alison Limerick,
Sly & The Family Stone,
T.S.O.L.,
The Motions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Mark Hollis,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rites of Spring,
The Doors,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.