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 New Zealand and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Alice Coltrane to the grunge 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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sonics,
Tears for Fears,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cure,
Dead Boys,
Yaz,
Wally Richardson,
Morten Harket,
Joensuu 1685,
Pagans,
Simply Red,
Unwound,
Section 25,
Roy Ayers,
The Index,
Massinfluence,
Sun City Girls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bauhaus,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rod Modell,
Duran Duran,
The Associates,
Monolake,
The Divine Comedy,
The Tremeloes,
Minutemen,
Aaron Thompson,
Marmalade,
Mantronix,
Joe Smooth,
Derrick May,
The Neon Judgement,
The Grass Roots,
Funkadelic,
Yellowson,
Easy Going,
Buzzcocks,
Boz Scaggs,
Chrome,
The Smiths,
Terry Callier,
Yazoo,
The Remains,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rapeman,
The Standells,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Wolf Eyes,
Jerry's Kids,
The Golliwogs,
Cluster,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Maleditus Sound,
Sonic Youth,
Thompson Twins,
Essential Logic,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Velvet Underground,
D'Angelo,
Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim, Eric B and Rakim.
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.