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 Ghana and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Nik Kershaw to the grunge 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echo & the Bunnymen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Kenny Larkin,
Sex Pistols,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jandek,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jimmy McGriff,
Laurel Aitken,
Lightning Bolt,
Bizarre Inc.,
Magma,
Rotary Connection,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Hasil Adkins,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Warsaw,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sight & Sound,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Unwound,
Crime,
The United States of America,
Scion,
Thee Headcoats,
Ralphi Rosario,
K-Klass,
Kerrie Biddell,
Wire,
Erasure,
Radio Birdman,
Pole,
Wasted Youth,
New Order,
The Residents,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lakeside,
The Detroit Cobras,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
L. Decosne,
MC5,
Pylon,
The Pretty Things,
Inner City,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
D'Angelo,
Amon Düül II,
The Dead C,
Blancmange,
Royal Trux,
Marcia Griffiths,
Roy Ayers,
The Cure,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Johnny Osbourne,
Delta 5,
Black Pus,
Charles Mingus,
Severed Heads,
Metal Thangz,
The Zeros,
Bobby Byrd,
Procol Harum,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.