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 Kyrgyzstan 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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Ornette Coleman,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Sheep,
Roy Ayers,
The Cure,
Freddie Wadling,
Derrick Morgan,
Andrew Hill,
Y Pants,
The Sonics,
The Invisible,
48th St. Collective,
the Human League,
the Swans,
Roxette,
Janne Schatter,
Arab on Radar,
Tomorrow,
ABC,
Babytalk,
Delta 5,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arthur Verocai,
Byron Stingily,
Dead Boys,
The Buckinghams,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Essential Logic,
Section 25,
Lalann,
Quando Quango,
Hoover,
The Slackers,
Sällskapet,
Dennis Brown,
Godley & Creme,
Spandau Ballet,
The American Breed,
Barclay James Harvest,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Laurel Aitken,
Yazoo,
Q65,
Faust,
Sun Ra,
Avey Tare,
Kurtis Blow,
Eurythmics,
Steve Hackett,
Ronnie Foster,
The Standells,
B.T. Express,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boogie Down Productions,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Selecter,
The Angels of Light,
Gang of Four,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.