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 Turkmenistan and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Red Krayola to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Don Cherry,
Robert Hood,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Danielle Patucci,
Skarface,
T. Rex,
Bobby Byrd,
Nirvana,
Gong,
Talk Talk,
Qualms,
The Buckinghams,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aloha Tigers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Moebius,
Massinfluence,
Khruangbin,
Malaria!,
Tim Buckley,
Harpers Bizarre,
8 Eyed Spy,
Television Personalities,
Nas,
Thompson Twins,
Outsiders,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Foxx,
The Mummies,
Flash Fearless,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fluxion,
Ten City,
Nils Olav,
Aural Exciters,
Kurtis Blow,
Tropical Tobacco,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Jeru the Damaja,
China Crisis,
Yaz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Todd Rundgren,
The Durutti Column,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ultravox,
The Velvet Underground,
Maleditus Sound,
Kaleidoscope,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sarah Menescal,
Colin Newman,
These Immortal Souls,
Donny Hathaway,
Boredoms,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Pierre Henry,
Juan Atkins,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.