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 Uruguay and from Glasgow.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 John Lydon to the dance 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ken Boothe,
The Move,
Interpol,
Sällskapet,
The Seeds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rakim,
Procol Harum,
John Foxx,
Mo-Dettes,
Sarah Menescal,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fat Boys,
The Shadows of Knight,
Girls At Our Best!,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Trumans Water,
Crispy Ambulance,
Liliput,
Bobby Sherman,
Lee Hazlewood,
ABC,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Don Cherry,
Y Pants,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scion,
Brass Construction,
The Gap Band,
Ice-T,
Desert Stars,
Zapp,
The Offenders,
Mr. Review,
F. McDonald,
Derrick May,
Ronan,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fuzztones,
The Slits,
Visage,
Nirvana,
Bang On A Can,
Ohio Players,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kool Moe Dee,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Moby Grape,
Q65,
Flipper,
Television,
Sun City Girls,
Colin Newman,
Pulsallama,
Graham Central Station,
The Martian,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Stiv Bators,
Cymande,
Erasure,
Yaz,
Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks, Buzzcocks.
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.