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 Syria and from Mexico City.
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 Delhi and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a This Heat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Guru Guru,
a-ha,
Soul Sonic Force,
Maleditus Sound,
Crooked Eye,
The Beau Brummels,
Deepchord,
Al Stewart,
Sam Rivers,
Sex Pistols,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Stetsasonic,
X-101,
Pole,
Marvin Gaye,
Monks,
Neu!,
Sun Ra,
Fad Gadget,
Deakin,
The Electric Prunes,
The Young Rascals,
The Doors,
Black Bananas,
Silicon Teens,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Loose Ends,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Juan Atkins,
Stiv Bators,
MC5,
Lou Christie,
Bang On A Can,
One Last Wish,
The Techniques,
The Index,
Sällskapet,
B.T. Express,
Pantytec,
AZ,
Roger Hodgson,
Das Ding,
Bob Dylan,
Sound Behaviour,
Bootsy Collins,
Bauhaus,
The Pretty Things,
Joey Negro,
Arab on Radar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Spandau Ballet,
Patti Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pierre Henry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Iggy Pop,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blake Baxter,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Normal,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.