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 Somalia and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rufus Thomas to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Trojans,
Echospace,
Sight & Sound,
Jacques Brel,
The Move,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Intrusion,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Moon,
The Toasters,
Traffic Nightmare,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Spoonie Gee,
Fluxion,
Urselle,
Arthur Verocai,
Loose Ends,
R.M.O.,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Barry Ungar,
Al Stewart,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Symarip,
The Music Machine,
Mad Mike,
Stockholm Monsters,
Susan Cadogan,
Chris & Cosey,
Tommy Roe,
Alice Coltrane,
Lindisfarne,
Au Pairs,
Essential Logic,
Carl Craig,
Jeff Lynne,
Adolescents,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Parry Music,
Porter Ricks,
Scientists,
Quando Quango,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Gun Club,
Kerri Chandler,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Faraquet,
Gong,
The Slackers,
The Offenders,
Severed Heads,
Tim Buckley,
Judy Mowatt,
Pussy Galore,
Little Man,
Kayak,
Dawn Penn,
Bad Manners,
Bang On A Can,
The Alarm Clocks,
Amon Düül,
James White and The Blacks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.