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 Kazakhstan and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Absolute Body Control to the disco 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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
The Smoke,
Bush Tetras,
The Fortunes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sällskapet,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Index,
Robert Görl,
Ten City,
Von Mondo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Spoonie Gee,
Jacob Miller,
Tommy Roe,
Gabor Szabo,
AZ,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Smog,
Magma,
Pole,
Roxette,
The Dead C,
The Monks,
The Human League,
Sound Behaviour,
JFA,
Radiohead,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pulsallama,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Barbara Tucker,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Model 500,
8 Eyed Spy,
Josef K,
Crispian St. Peters,
Trumans Water,
Mr. Review,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Black Sheep,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scott Walker,
DJ Sneak,
John Holt,
the Bar-Kays,
Loose Ends,
Jawbox,
Chrome,
Bad Manners,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
John Lydon,
Barry Ungar,
The Cure,
Talk Talk,
The Fuzztones,
Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims, Joyce Sims.
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.