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 Slovakia and from Delhi.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 clarinet 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 Prince Buster 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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quando Quango,
Porter Ricks,
The Black Dice,
The Knickerbockers,
Aural Exciters,
The Cramps,
X-102,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Talk Talk,
Cecil Taylor,
Marc Almond,
Lee Hazlewood,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Association,
Jacques Brel,
Magma,
Severed Heads,
The Dead C,
Soul Sonic Force,
Graham Central Station,
Robert Wyatt,
The Evens,
Fela Kuti,
The Techniques,
Rotary Connection,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stockholm Monsters,
Drexciya,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Moody Blues,
Half Japanese,
Donald Byrd,
Bill Wells,
Lindisfarne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Moss Icon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Vladislav Delay,
Nico,
The Doobie Brothers,
Subhumans,
Henry Cow,
Bang On A Can,
Deepchord,
Althea and Donna,
Tommy Roe,
Eve St. Jones,
Ornette Coleman,
Harmonia,
Joe Finger,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Stiv Bators,
Yaz,
Dark Day,
The Five Americans,
Grey Daturas,
Bauhaus,
Warren Ellis,
Davy DMX,
Wolf Eyes,
Funkadelic,
The Real Kids,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.