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 Solomon Islands and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the mellotron 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 James White and The Blacks to the rap 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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rahsaan Roland Kirk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Second Layer,
Shoche,
Bang On A Can,
The Names,
The Star Department,
Unwound,
The Techniques,
Toni Rubio,
Motorama,
Buzzcocks,
Television Personalities,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Organ,
Reagan Youth,
Grauzone,
Mad Mike,
DNA,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doors,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Peter & Gordon,
The Mummies,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cheater Slicks,
Angry Samoans,
Radiohead,
X-Ray Spex,
the Association,
R.M.O.,
The Fire Engines,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed,
Cecil Taylor,
the Germs,
Easy Going,
Sam Rivers,
Kayak,
Albert Ayler,
Flash Fearless,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Visage,
Oneida,
The Modern Lovers,
Sex Pistols,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fela Kuti,
Main Source,
F. McDonald,
Lou Christie,
Derrick Morgan,
The Tremeloes,
Skaos,
Eurythmics,
Nik Kershaw,
Idris Muhammad,
Archie Shepp,
The Wake,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.