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 Barbados and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Mission of Burma to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
T.S.O.L.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Graham Central Station,
Todd Rundgren,
Ossler,
DJ Style,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Silicon Teens,
Sällskapet,
Erykah Badu,
Jawbox,
Harmonia,
Lindisfarne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Blues Magoos,
48th St. Collective,
Tim Buckley,
Deadbeat,
Quadrant,
Soft Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Nik Kershaw,
The Litter,
The Martian,
Blancmange,
Marvin Gaye,
Swell Maps,
Reagan Youth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tubeway Army,
Anakelly,
Pierre Henry,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Saccharine Trust,
The Monochrome Set,
Fela Kuti,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Robert Görl,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Alison Limerick,
Excepter,
Section 25,
The Cramps,
Archie Shepp,
Television,
The Vogues,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Smiths,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Angels of Light,
Lungfish,
T. Rex,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rakim,
Unwound,
Crash Course in Science,
Gerry Rafferty,
These Immortal Souls,
Drexciya,
Tropical Tobacco,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.