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 Cambodia and from Lille.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb 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 Cosmic Jokers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
The Kinks,
Cluster,
JFA,
Scratch Acid,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Matthew Bourne,
Depeche Mode,
The Slits,
Dawn Penn,
Lou Christie,
Arcadia,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultravox,
The Motions,
Roy Ayers,
Metal Thangz,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Babytalk,
The Standells,
Hot Snakes,
The Tremeloes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pere Ubu,
The Zeros,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Blake Baxter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Slave,
Camouflage,
John Lydon,
T.S.O.L.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
OOIOO,
ABC,
Lindisfarne,
Yazoo,
the Soft Cell,
Reuben Wilson,
The Litter,
Alton Ellis,
The Gladiators,
Altered Images,
Groovy Waters,
Barry Ungar,
Andrew Hill,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Average White Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Quadrant,
the Association,
Yusef Lateef,
Rapeman,
Suburban Knight,
Outsiders,
Minutemen,
The Fuzztones,
Wire,
Dennis Brown,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.