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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mumbai.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the sitar 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 Monks to the disco 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 The J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro 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 Fortunes,
Oneida,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Al Stewart,
Sun Ra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Slick Rick,
Marvin Gaye,
Fluxion,
Tomorrow,
Skriet,
Rod Modell,
Television,
The Beau Brummels,
Joy Division,
Roy Ayers,
Royal Trux,
The Pretty Things,
Delon & Dalcan,
Black Flag,
Rufus Thomas,
the Human League,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Gladiators,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Simply Red,
Deepchord,
Todd Rundgren,
Outsiders,
the Germs,
Blossom Toes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Vainqueur,
The Dirtbombs,
Make Up,
Icehouse,
Camouflage,
Sonic Youth,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Leaves,
Eyeless In Gaza,
John Cale,
The Divine Comedy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Saints,
Intrusion,
The Golliwogs,
Nico,
Little Man,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hashim,
Yazoo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Crispian St. Peters,
Y Pants,
Thompson Twins,
Aloha Tigers,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.