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 Togo 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the 808 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Human League,
Sandy B,
The Sonics,
The Count Five,
Terry Callier,
The Fire Engines,
Pagans,
Jacques Brel,
Crime,
48th St. Collective,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pantaleimon,
The Saints,
The Durutti Column,
Rapeman,
Slick Rick,
Lightning Bolt,
Depeche Mode,
Hardrive,
Steve Hackett,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
B.T. Express,
Rites of Spring,
Kas Product,
Henry Cow,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Stetsasonic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
New Age Steppers,
T.S.O.L.,
Kaleidoscope,
MC5,
Suicide,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alton Ellis,
Fad Gadget,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Reuben Wilson,
Thee Headcoats,
Skarface,
JFA,
The Remains,
The Busters,
K-Klass,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Hoover,
Danielle Patucci,
Bizarre Inc.,
Mark Hollis,
Scan 7,
Cecil Taylor,
Altered Images,
Ornette Coleman,
Wings,
Howard Jones,
Negative Approach,
Model 500,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.