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 Sweden and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Steve Hackett record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gabor Szabo,
June of 44,
Motorama,
Pet Shop Boys,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Selecter,
The Flesh Eaters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Skarface,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eric Dolphy,
Eric Copeland,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
UT,
The Kinks,
The Dirtbombs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scan 7,
The Victims,
Roxette,
David Axelrod,
Black Pus,
Anthony Braxton,
Y Pants,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jerry's Kids,
Stiv Bators,
Hasil Adkins,
The Residents,
Eddi Front,
Moby Grape,
Terry Callier,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Flash Fearless,
Rod Modell,
Kurtis Blow,
Man Parrish,
Al Stewart,
Bang On A Can,
Section 25,
E-Dancer,
Albert Ayler,
Sarah Menescal,
Cymande,
The American Breed,
Minutemen,
Judy Mowatt,
Make Up,
This Heat,
The Smoke,
Moebius,
Masters at Work,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ten City,
Patti Smith,
Dead Boys,
DJ Sneak,
Schoolly D,
Country Teasers,
Toni Rubio,
Pussy Galore,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.