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 Brunei and from Philadelphia.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Robert Wyatt to the grunge 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
Aaron Thompson,
The Barracudas,
The Selecter,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marc Almond,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jacob Miller,
Mission of Burma,
Lindisfarne,
David Axelrod,
Camouflage,
Trumans Water,
Oblivians,
Iggy Pop,
Moby Grape,
Faust,
The Offenders,
Y Pants,
Aural Exciters,
Los Fastidios,
Alton Ellis,
Smog,
Niagra,
Yusef Lateef,
Crispian St. Peters,
Unwound,
The Move,
Can,
Lungfish,
48th St. Collective,
La Düsseldorf,
Joe Smooth,
June Days,
Mandrill,
Mars,
Flipper,
Tom Boy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Mad Mike,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Victims,
Ultravox,
Ituana,
Kevin Saunderson,
Negative Approach,
Zapp,
E-Dancer,
Wire,
The Cure,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alison Limerick,
Althea and Donna,
Grauzone,
Deepchord,
Ornette Coleman,
Letta Mbulu,
the Soft Cell,
The Residents,
Whodini,
Make Up,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Danielle Patucci,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.