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 Equatorial Guinea and from Columbus.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
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 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 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 Gerry Rafferty to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Infiniti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Stereo Dub,
Cheater Slicks,
Yellowson,
X-102,
Howard Jones,
Mr. Review,
The Stooges,
The Cramps,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Blake Baxter,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Liliput,
Desert Stars,
Icehouse,
Barbara Tucker,
Dennis Brown,
Dark Day,
Depeche Mode,
Metal Thangz,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Young Rascals,
The Techniques,
Soul II Soul,
The Sound,
Adolescents,
Motorama,
Jacob Miller,
Skriet,
Scott Walker,
Soft Cell,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bad Manners,
Joe Smooth,
Barrington Levy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Womack,
Second Layer,
Nirvana,
The Remains,
Skaos,
New Age Steppers,
Deadbeat,
Blancmange,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nas,
Brothers Johnson,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Gang Green,
Dead Boys,
Blossom Toes,
The Index,
Jeff Lynne,
Fifty Foot Hose,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.