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 United States and from Halifax.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 linndrum 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 U.S. Maple to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Underground Resistance,
Anthony Braxton,
Saccharine Trust,
Deakin,
The Dead C,
Wally Richardson,
Marmalade,
Prince Buster,
Radio Birdman,
Excepter,
Tim Buckley,
Marine Girls,
R.M.O.,
Dual Sessions,
Bauhaus,
Jesper Dahlback,
DNA,
The Happenings,
Chrome,
Eddi Front,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
PIL,
Henry Cow,
Soul II Soul,
Reagan Youth,
Q65,
Robert Wyatt,
The Electric Prunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jeru the Damaja,
Delta 5,
The Misunderstood,
Mad Mike,
Groovy Waters,
Max Romeo,
LL Cool J,
The Red Krayola,
Skaos,
The Martian,
Mark Hollis,
ABBA,
Nirvana,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Qualms,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skriet,
Lee Hazlewood,
John Cale,
Terrestrial Tones,
Can,
Subhumans,
Piero Umiliani,
Motorama,
Eric B and Rakim,
Morten Harket,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Duran Duran,
The Selecter,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.