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 Netherlands and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kerrie Biddell to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Smoke. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Niagra,
Man Parrish,
Bob Dylan,
Organ,
Stetsasonic,
Half Japanese,
David McCallum,
Jimmy McGriff,
Infiniti,
Icehouse,
Porter Ricks,
Toni Rubio,
Todd Terry,
Godley & Creme,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dead Boys,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sugar Minott,
the Bar-Kays,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Index,
Metal Thangz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bootsy Collins,
Harry Pussy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Chris & Cosey,
Barry Ungar,
Flipper,
Rapeman,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Max Romeo,
Spoonie Gee,
Surgeon,
Nick Fraelich,
X-Ray Spex,
Tommy Roe,
Kas Product,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Bang On A Can,
Young Marble Giants,
Tomorrow,
Susan Cadogan,
the Slits,
The Pop Group,
Quadrant,
Yusef Lateef,
B.T. Express,
Blancmange,
Public Enemy,
The J.B.'s,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Arthur Verocai,
Au Pairs,
Brick,
The Detroit Cobras,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.