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 Saudi Arabia and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dark Day to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
Delta 5,
Crooked Eye,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Sound,
The Monochrome Set,
the Soft Cell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Danielle Patucci,
Johnny Osbourne,
Con Funk Shun,
Deakin,
Minnie Riperton,
Fat Boys,
Japan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Average White Band,
Colin Newman,
Juan Atkins,
Rapeman,
Deadbeat,
Anthony Braxton,
the Human League,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Funky Four + One,
Rosa Yemen,
Interpol,
Spandau Ballet,
ABC,
The Buckinghams,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pere Ubu,
Joyce Sims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mission of Burma,
The Doors,
A Certain Ratio,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mark Hollis,
Skaos,
The Gories,
Maleditus Sound,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Roxy Music,
Monolake,
Toni Rubio,
Supertramp,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Peter & Gordon,
Sugar Minott,
Faraquet,
Minor Threat,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Young Rascals,
The Associates,
Infiniti,
New York Dolls,
Anakelly,
Jandek,
In Retrospect,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe, Tommy Roe.
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.