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 France and from Accra.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Lindisfarne to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Talk Talk,
Barclay James Harvest,
Dawn Penn,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gabor Szabo,
L. Decosne,
Magma,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Joe Finger,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Byrd,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lou Christie,
Reagan Youth,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Divine Comedy,
The Residents,
Technova,
Dead Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bill Near,
the Germs,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Slick Rick,
The American Breed,
Arcadia,
ABC,
Josef K,
The J.B.'s,
Tom Boy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fortunes,
Cal Tjader,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
David Bowie,
John Foxx,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crash Course in Science,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Beau Brummels,
the Sonics,
Ronnie Foster,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Dave Clark Five,
KRS-One,
Model 500,
Groovy Waters,
Bush Tetras,
Traffic Nightmare,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Patti Smith,
Deadbeat,
the Human League,
Tears for Fears,
Black Bananas,
The Slits,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
DJ Sneak,
The Mummies,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
World's Most,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.