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 Colombia and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Idris Muhammad,
Todd Terry,
Eric Dolphy,
Soft Cell,
cv313,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scrapy,
KRS-One,
Bootsy Collins,
L. Decosne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Faraquet,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Beau Brummels,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Zapp,
Jeff Lynne,
Desert Stars,
The Sound,
Malaria!,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eric Copeland,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rod Modell,
Sun Ra,
The Slits,
The Motions,
The Seeds,
Minutemen,
Symarip,
Neil Young,
Cybotron,
La Düsseldorf,
Nik Kershaw,
Section 25,
The Doors,
Althea and Donna,
Lucky Dragons,
Buzzcocks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
U.S. Maple,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lou Reed,
OOIOO,
Skaos,
Organ,
Nation of Ulysses,
The United States of America,
Trumans Water,
Guru Guru,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
John Holt,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Smiths,
Robert Hood,
Howard Jones,
In Retrospect,
Icehouse,
Mr. Review,
Josef K,
Sex Pistols,
The Evens,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.