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 Armenia and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Monks to the techno 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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Fortunes,
Patti Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
Sly & The Family Stone,
World's Most,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Fugs,
Parry Music,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Motions,
Derrick May,
Arab on Radar,
The Associates,
Barbara Tucker,
The Grass Roots,
The Real Kids,
The Human League,
Peter & Gordon,
Flash Fearless,
Talk Talk,
Agitation Free,
Slave,
Soul II Soul,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Angry Samoans,
Kenny Larkin,
Rapeman,
Oblivians,
Crime,
Colin Newman,
Boogie Down Productions,
Rosa Yemen,
Rakim,
Spoonie Gee,
Organ,
Sällskapet,
Albert Ayler,
Scientists,
The American Breed,
The Skatalites,
Ronan,
The Searchers,
June of 44,
Grey Daturas,
Agent Orange,
Clear Light,
Fatback Band,
ABC,
Cluster,
Mo-Dettes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Y Pants,
Goldenarms,
DJ Style,
Reagan Youth,
Smog,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Vainqueur,
the Germs,
Desert Stars,
The Cowsills,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Electric Prunes,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.