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 Brazil and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the electroclash 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
The Tremeloes,
Kurtis Blow,
Brand Nubian,
Minor Threat,
Barrington Levy,
Dawn Penn,
Jeff Mills,
Blake Baxter,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DNA,
Minnie Riperton,
Ultimate Spinach,
OOIOO,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mr. Review,
Blossom Toes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ronnie Foster,
Al Stewart,
Smog,
DJ Sneak,
Lungfish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Christie,
Easy Going,
Bush Tetras,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Angels of Light,
Crime,
Roy Ayers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Talk Talk,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
John Cale,
Terrestrial Tones,
Quadrant,
Dennis Brown,
Jacques Brel,
Intrusion,
Jawbox,
The Blackbyrds,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jandek,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Marcia Griffiths,
Graham Central Station,
Warren Ellis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Mummies,
Desert Stars,
a-ha,
Moby Grape,
Flash Fearless,
The Motions,
Negative Approach,
Glenn Branca,
The Buckinghams,
Lalo Schifrin,
In Retrospect,
China Crisis,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.