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 Cambodia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 snare 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 Cameo to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
the Germs,
Yaz,
The Martian,
Piero Umiliani,
Leonard Cohen,
The American Breed,
The Trojans,
Ronan,
Blossom Toes,
The Moody Blues,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cecil Taylor,
It's A Beautiful Day,
PIL,
Anakelly,
Tom Boy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Arthur Verocai,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
World's Most,
Alice Coltrane,
These Immortal Souls,
Supertramp,
The Mummies,
Lower 48,
Harry Pussy,
John Holt,
Chris Corsano,
Cameo,
Guru Guru,
The Slackers,
Judy Mowatt,
UT,
Soft Cell,
Ituana,
Eric Dolphy,
The Star Department,
The Slits,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Alison Limerick,
Andrew Hill,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Human League,
Country Teasers,
Don Cherry,
Skriet,
Marmalade,
Lalann,
Roxette,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter & Gordon,
Yazoo,
Theoretical Girls,
Eurythmics,
Nils Olav,
Procol Harum,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Average White Band,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.