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 Marshall Islands and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe 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 Severed Heads to the punk 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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Sun City Girls,
Susan Cadogan,
a-ha,
Surgeon,
Deakin,
Yazoo,
Avey Tare,
The Saints,
Scrapy,
Tomorrow,
Howard Jones,
The Golliwogs,
Kerri Chandler,
Scientists,
The Seeds,
Agent Orange,
Lou Christie,
The Techniques,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Green,
Erasure,
Nirvana,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Groovy Waters,
Dead Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
Marcia Griffiths,
Donny Hathaway,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Move,
Jerry's Kids,
Wings,
Graham Central Station,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Associates,
Mary Jane Girls,
Morten Harket,
Man Parrish,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dennis Brown,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Essential Logic,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bob Dylan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pantaleimon,
Soulsonic Force,
The Electric Prunes,
Archie Shepp,
Isaac Hayes,
Soft Cell,
Kas Product,
Roger Hodgson,
Accadde A,
Deepchord,
Infiniti,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.