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 Libya and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Magazine to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
The Fugs,
The Misunderstood,
Sound Behaviour,
Piero Umiliani,
Scan 7,
The New Christs,
Barry Ungar,
Electric Prunes,
Zero Boys,
Graham Central Station,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Franke,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Sonics,
The Barracudas,
Sam Rivers,
Ponytail,
The Moleskins,
John Coltrane,
Minutemen,
Tears for Fears,
Symarip,
Amon Düül,
Aswad,
Simply Red,
Stereo Dub,
John Holt,
Joe Finger,
Lindisfarne,
Soulsonic Force,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Scratch Acid,
Connie Case,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Von Mondo,
Peter & Gordon,
The Raincoats,
Make Up,
The Velvet Underground,
Lungfish,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jeff Lynne,
Lightning Bolt,
Danielle Patucci,
Todd Rundgren,
New York Dolls,
The Red Krayola,
Ultravox,
the Swans,
Fela Kuti,
Bauhaus,
Don Cherry,
Harry Pussy,
the Fania All-Stars,
L. Decosne,
The Gap Band,
Stiv Bators,
Country Teasers,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.