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 Bahamas and from Tehran.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Shuggie Otis to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds 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 mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gang Starr,
Junior Murvin,
Faust,
The J.B.'s,
FM Einheit,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Martian,
The Moleskins,
Curtis Mayfield,
Aaron Thompson,
The Mojo Men,
Moby Grape,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
ABC,
E-Dancer,
Jacques Brel,
Agitation Free,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Skatalites,
Mr. Review,
The American Breed,
Babytalk,
Ornette Coleman,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Busters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Star Department,
Bluetip,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ronnie Foster,
Interpol,
Joey Negro,
Grauzone,
Young Marble Giants,
Hot Snakes,
Moss Icon,
Roger Hodgson,
Spoonie Gee,
Scratch Acid,
Ronan,
Joy Division,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
10cc,
Lungfish,
The Gladiators,
Y Pants,
Bill Near,
The Blackbyrds,
Erykah Badu,
The Fortunes,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Man Eating Sloth,
Davy DMX,
Gang of Four,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Doors,
Stereo Dub,
Audionom,
Eurythmics,
Bang On A Can,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.