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 Congo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Wally Richardson to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Swans,
The Standells,
Underground Resistance,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Cure,
Nas,
Infiniti,
The Fuzztones,
Black Bananas,
Quantec,
Pylon,
Public Enemy,
Stereo Dub,
Gang Green,
Urselle,
Faust,
Anakelly,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marc Almond,
Rod Modell,
Maurizio,
Monks,
Inner City,
The Moleskins,
H. Thieme,
Jeru the Damaja,
New Age Steppers,
The Cramps,
The Toasters,
Lakeside,
Connie Case,
Fat Boys,
Erasure,
Scrapy,
Dorothy Ashby,
L. Decosne,
OOIOO,
Minor Threat,
Godley & Creme,
Tears for Fears,
Bad Manners,
The Offenders,
The Beau Brummels,
T.S.O.L.,
Soft Machine,
Donald Byrd,
Skriet,
Nils Olav,
The Tremeloes,
Mission of Burma,
Nirvana,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Los Fastidios,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sun Ra,
The Litter,
The Searchers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fad Gadget,
Kas Product,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.