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 Solomon Islands and from Glasgow.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 Talk Talk to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Erasure,
Ken Boothe,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dark Day,
Dave Gahan,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cybotron,
Lou Christie,
Yazoo,
Excepter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Neon Judgement,
The Pop Group,
Sun City Girls,
Shoche,
Make Up,
Little Man,
Eden Ahbez,
Jawbox,
Byron Stingily,
The Motions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Aswad,
The Invisible,
Stockholm Monsters,
Clear Light,
Sandy B,
The Alarm Clocks,
David Axelrod,
Sight & Sound,
Aural Exciters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Laurel Aitken,
Neu!,
The American Breed,
The Count Five,
Ultimate Spinach,
Masters at Work,
Bluetip,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Doors,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Alphaville,
Gregory Isaacs,
John Foxx,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sister Nancy,
Fad Gadget,
Nico,
Aloha Tigers,
Pagans,
48th St. Collective,
Simply Red,
John Coltrane,
Surgeon,
Theoretical Girls,
Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover.
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.