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 Estonia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Monks to the disco 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Groovy Waters,
Mark Hollis,
Steve Hackett,
Faust,
Little Man,
Icehouse,
Kurtis Blow,
Gabor Szabo,
Bronski Beat,
the Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Max Romeo,
Spoonie Gee,
The Sound,
Yellowson,
Minny Pops,
Country Teasers,
Organ,
The Neon Judgement,
Glenn Branca,
Electric Prunes,
Crash Course in Science,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Derrick May,
Gang Starr,
Susan Cadogan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Porter Ricks,
Slick Rick,
The Busters,
Ossler,
The Knickerbockers,
The Golliwogs,
Minor Threat,
Metal Thangz,
The Happenings,
Parry Music,
The Blackbyrds,
the Slits,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
DNA,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Lungfish,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Techniques,
The Skatalites,
Ken Boothe,
Fluxion,
the Bar-Kays,
Girls At Our Best!,
Theoretical Girls,
Das Ding,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Darondo,
Clear Light,
Black Sheep,
the Germs,
Dual Sessions,
Au Pairs,
Mo-Dettes,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.