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 Brazil and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Halifax.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Soft Cell to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gong record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
F. McDonald,
Thompson Twins,
Black Sheep,
Amazonics,
Eve St. Jones,
Kaleidoscope,
Rekid,
Fear,
Brick,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Bar-Kays,
Hashim,
Qualms,
Magma,
Nils Olav,
Quadrant,
The Smoke,
Parry Music,
Delta 5,
Fat Boys,
Wings,
The Knickerbockers,
Johnny Clarke,
Sister Nancy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Infiniti,
Swell Maps,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kerri Chandler,
Henry Cow,
The Dead C,
Yaz,
Japan,
Peter & Gordon,
Joy Division,
The Skatalites,
Ultimate Spinach,
China Crisis,
The Stooges,
Sonic Youth,
Donny Hathaway,
Soul II Soul,
Matthew Bourne,
Youth Brigade,
L. Decosne,
Nick Fraelich,
Angry Samoans,
AZ,
Big Daddy Kane,
Babytalk,
Brand Nubian,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sun Ra,
LL Cool J,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Junior Murvin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cybotron,
The Smiths,
The Velvet Underground,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.