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 Italy and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba 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 Symarip to the rock 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Siglo XX,
Swell Maps,
Morten Harket,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Almond,
The Toasters,
Peter and Kerry,
John Foxx,
The Moleskins,
David Bowie,
The Durutti Column,
Eric Copeland,
The Mummies,
Reuben Wilson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
The Angels of Light,
Crime,
Zero Boys,
Ornette Coleman,
Hot Snakes,
Scratch Acid,
Brand Nubian,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pole,
MDC,
The Divine Comedy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lungfish,
Brass Construction,
Inner City,
Cymande,
Bobby Womack,
Albert Ayler,
The Smiths,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chris & Cosey,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Au Pairs,
Tom Boy,
Eddi Front,
Black Moon,
E-Dancer,
Jacob Miller,
Ken Boothe,
Fad Gadget,
Fluxion,
Frankie Knuckles,
Vainqueur,
Nas,
Can,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Colin Newman,
The Golliwogs,
Circle Jerks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mo-Dettes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cecil Taylor,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.