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 Sri Lanka and from New York.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the rock 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pretty Things,
Bluetip,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rites of Spring,
Patti Smith,
Robert Hood,
Chris Corsano,
Loose Ends,
Niagra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Swans,
Minor Threat,
The Flesh Eaters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Michelle Simonal,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q and Not U,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Hot Snakes,
Prince Buster,
Arab on Radar,
Junior Murvin,
Pagans,
Siglo XX,
Simply Red,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Sonics,
Kayak,
The Real Kids,
X-101,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lakeside,
Ludus,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fortunes,
Los Fastidios,
Joe Finger,
Agitation Free,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Audionom,
Flamin' Groovies,
Intrusion,
Lalo Schifrin,
Glambeats Corp.,
Slave,
AZ,
Chrome,
The New Christs,
Thompson Twins,
Unwound,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Lydon,
F. McDonald,
Sixth Finger,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jandek,
Max Romeo,
Bobby Byrd,
10cc,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.