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 Zambia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 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 Ultravox to the grunge 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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Sandy B,
Swans,
John Foxx,
Surgeon,
Inner City,
Mr. Review,
Brick,
Bobby Sherman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soft Cell,
The Fuzztones,
Scratch Acid,
The Fire Engines,
The Invisible,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Soulsonic Force,
The Electric Prunes,
Yellowson,
Tomorrow,
Clear Light,
The Star Department,
Blake Baxter,
Kerri Chandler,
The Motions,
Oneida,
Scion,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Negative Approach,
Sun City Girls,
Lyres,
Ultravox,
The Neon Judgement,
Steve Hackett,
Archie Shepp,
The Index,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Evens,
Rapeman,
David McCallum,
Neu!,
The Fugs,
Public Enemy,
Deadbeat,
T. Rex,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
10cc,
One Last Wish,
Mo-Dettes,
The Blues Magoos,
Franke,
Donald Byrd,
Amazonics,
Piero Umiliani,
Make Up,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Walker Brothers,
Spoonie Gee,
Stereo Dub,
Dual Sessions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Swans,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.