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 United States and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Darondo to the grime 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Metal Thangz,
Gastr Del Sol,
Unwound,
Icehouse,
X-Ray Spex,
The American Breed,
The Alarm Clocks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Arab on Radar,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Monks,
Slave,
Blossom Toes,
The Cowsills,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Carl Craig,
Eden Ahbez,
Loose Ends,
Guru Guru,
The Victims,
The Grass Roots,
Unrelated Segments,
Scrapy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ponytail,
The Dave Clark Five,
Junior Murvin,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cymande,
The Durutti Column,
Nirvana,
Pulsallama,
Swell Maps,
the Bar-Kays,
Tubeway Army,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Swans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Make Up,
Tres Demented,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Anakelly,
Rites of Spring,
Byron Stingily,
Colin Newman,
Supertramp,
Bobby Sherman,
Soft Machine,
Wolf Eyes,
Japan,
June of 44,
Royal Trux,
Jacob Miller,
Mandrill,
Reagan Youth,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.