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 Cameroon and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare 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 Oblivians to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 KRS-One. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dennis Brown record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Man Parrish,
Sister Nancy,
X-101,
Bill Wells,
The Searchers,
OOIOO,
Section 25,
Erasure,
Cybotron,
The Leaves,
Gastr Del Sol,
Black Bananas,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Unrelated Segments,
Howard Jones,
Brothers Johnson,
The Names,
Freddie Wadling,
Model 500,
The Pop Group,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crispian St. Peters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Happenings,
Das Ding,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deakin,
Mandrill,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bang On A Can,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fuzztones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Index,
Yaz,
Minny Pops,
The Move,
B.T. Express,
The Real Kids,
Subhumans,
Desert Stars,
Davy DMX,
Bauhaus,
Curtis Mayfield,
Agent Orange,
The Raincoats,
Lou Christie,
Suburban Knight,
Flamin' Groovies,
Siglo XX,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eric Copeland,
The Smoke,
Robert Görl,
Rufus Thomas,
Sandy B,
Fela Kuti,
Stiv Bators,
Lindisfarne,
The Techniques,
John Lydon,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.