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 El Salvador and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 organ 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the punk 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 The Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
the Slits,
Metal Thangz,
Index,
Barclay James Harvest,
Franke,
Radio Birdman,
Agent Orange,
Skarface,
Bobby Womack,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eli Mardock,
Joensuu 1685,
cv313,
Rosa Yemen,
Spoonie Gee,
Althea and Donna,
Glenn Branca,
Mission of Burma,
Jacques Brel,
Colin Newman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Smog,
Dawn Penn,
Sight & Sound,
Leonard Cohen,
Rites of Spring,
Eric B and Rakim,
Patti Smith,
Black Sheep,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
LL Cool J,
Sarah Menescal,
New Age Steppers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Lydon,
The Fugs,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Echospace,
Lyres,
X-102,
U.S. Maple,
Ornette Coleman,
The Smiths,
Scrapy,
Wire,
Rod Modell,
Idris Muhammad,
Wasted Youth,
Marshall Jefferson,
Cybotron,
Siglo XX,
The Skatalites,
Heaven 17,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Sherman,
Neu!,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.