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 El Salvador and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the funk 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 Gregory Isaacs. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
ABC,
Frankie Knuckles,
DJ Sneak,
Deepchord,
Warsaw,
The Doors,
Oneida,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sonics,
Roxette,
UT,
The Fortunes,
Laurel Aitken,
Eric B and Rakim,
Trumans Water,
Marvin Gaye,
The Blackbyrds,
Crispy Ambulance,
T. Rex,
Inner City,
Joey Negro,
8 Eyed Spy,
Shuggie Otis,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Quantec,
Eric Copeland,
Avey Tare,
Toni Rubio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Cure,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Zeros,
EPMD,
The Star Department,
Bobby Womack,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Associates,
The Martian,
The Fugs,
Piero Umiliani,
Monks,
Peter and Kerry,
The Angels of Light,
Erykah Badu,
Monolake,
Harmonia,
Charles Mingus,
Lalann,
the Soft Cell,
Spoonie Gee,
Dark Day,
Theoretical Girls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Joyce Sims,
Barbara Tucker,
Derrick Morgan,
Brass Construction,
Sparks,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.