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 India and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sexual Harrassment to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Henry Cow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ronnie Foster,
Grey Daturas,
Ten City,
The Evens,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kerri Chandler,
New Age Steppers,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sparks,
Faust,
Youth Brigade,
Loose Ends,
The Skatalites,
ABC,
the Germs,
New York Dolls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Clear Light,
Roger Hodgson,
Yazoo,
The Fuzztones,
Grauzone,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skaos,
Moebius,
Hasil Adkins,
Niagra,
Funkadelic,
Jerry's Kids,
Swans,
Porter Ricks,
Derrick May,
F. McDonald,
Ultravox,
Japan,
Stereo Dub,
The Beau Brummels,
Nirvana,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cameo,
Angry Samoans,
Pulsallama,
Alphaville,
AZ,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The American Breed,
Ken Boothe,
Alice Coltrane,
Aaron Thompson,
Stetsasonic,
Con Funk Shun,
Aswad,
Sugar Minott,
Cheater Slicks,
Mission of Burma,
David McCallum,
Rekid,
Radio Birdman,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.