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 Ivory Coast and from New York.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Roger Hodgson to the jazz 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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Das Ding,
Brand Nubian,
Section 25,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Happenings,
Pylon,
Fat Boys,
The Dave Clark Five,
Negative Approach,
Tom Boy,
Saccharine Trust,
Camouflage,
Pierre Henry,
Bang On A Can,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bill Wells,
AZ,
Todd Terry,
The Litter,
Scratch Acid,
Neu!,
John Holt,
The New Christs,
Arcadia,
Joy Division,
Mantronix,
Roy Ayers,
Infiniti,
Grey Daturas,
Intrusion,
Connie Case,
Swans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Archie Shepp,
The Knickerbockers,
Delta 5,
The Mojo Men,
The Red Krayola,
Sex Pistols,
Warsaw,
Urselle,
the Slits,
Blake Baxter,
Henry Cow,
The Star Department,
The J.B.'s,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dave Gahan,
Zapp,
Magma,
Joe Smooth,
Jeff Lynne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
David Axelrod,
Zero Boys,
Crooked Eye,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soft Cell,
Television,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.