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 Senegal and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Michael McDonald 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 Sisters of Mercy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
David Bowie,
Boogie Down Productions,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Adolescents,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Seeds,
Alison Limerick,
the Fania All-Stars,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Circle Jerks,
Brand Nubian,
Clear Light,
Average White Band,
Scientists,
Erasure,
Wolf Eyes,
John Coltrane,
Porter Ricks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Qualms,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
H. Thieme,
Basic Channel,
Rekid,
Roxette,
Roxy Music,
Ituana,
Cheater Slicks,
The Electric Prunes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
David Axelrod,
The Doors,
Dawn Penn,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Judy Mowatt,
Barclay James Harvest,
Q and Not U,
Sound Behaviour,
Icehouse,
Altered Images,
Yusef Lateef,
The Wake,
Can,
Harry Pussy,
The Names,
The American Breed,
Moss Icon,
The Moleskins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Piero Umiliani,
The Toasters,
Yazoo,
Con Funk Shun,
Bob Dylan,
The Buckinghams,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Dave Clark Five,
Procol Harum,
Funkadelic,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.