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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin 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 Qualms to the crunk 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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Matthew Bourne,
EPMD,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
H. Thieme,
David Axelrod,
Dual Sessions,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Masters at Work,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Laurel Aitken,
Lee Hazlewood,
Fat Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Al Stewart,
The Invisible,
Glenn Branca,
The Black Dice,
Mandrill,
Cybotron,
Derrick Morgan,
Alice Coltrane,
Aswad,
Ludus,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Procol Harum,
Curtis Mayfield,
F. McDonald,
Underground Resistance,
Chris & Cosey,
Pierre Henry,
The Alarm Clocks,
Unwound,
B.T. Express,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bluetip,
Juan Atkins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Stiv Bators,
Audionom,
Sun Ra,
the Soft Cell,
Y Pants,
Pere Ubu,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Brick,
Sound Behaviour,
Simply Red,
The Angels of Light,
The Wake,
Amon Düül,
Model 500,
Slave,
Bill Wells,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Warsaw,
The Barracudas,
Vladislav Delay,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.