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 Belgium and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Litter to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Mr. Review,
Clear Light,
a-ha,
Alice Coltrane,
The Alarm Clocks,
Blossom Toes,
Infiniti,
This Heat,
Jacques Brel,
The Litter,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Rites of Spring,
Lalo Schifrin,
Cybotron,
The Residents,
Soul II Soul,
Susan Cadogan,
The Fall,
L. Decosne,
Essential Logic,
Pussy Galore,
The Standells,
The Slits,
DNA,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Suburban Knight,
Duran Duran,
Boredoms,
The American Breed,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
the Soft Cell,
Scott Walker,
Isaac Hayes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lindisfarne,
Lakeside,
Outsiders,
Pere Ubu,
Mary Jane Girls,
Schoolly D,
Scrapy,
Bobby Sherman,
Matthew Halsall,
Albert Ayler,
EPMD,
The Cowsills,
Ronan,
Connie Case,
Sällskapet,
Warren Ellis,
Graham Central Station,
Japan,
Eve St. Jones,
Technova,
Bill Near,
8 Eyed Spy,
U.S. Maple,
Eli Mardock,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.