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 Bolivia and from Tehran.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet 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 Ronnie Foster to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
Glambeats Corp.,
Can,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Thee Headcoats,
Wally Richardson,
JFA,
John Lydon,
La Düsseldorf,
Schoolly D,
Archie Shepp,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Neu!,
Faust,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Techniques,
Cybotron,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pole,
Mary Jane Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Piero Umiliani,
The J.B.'s,
Ultra Naté,
Byron Stingily,
Skriet,
Ludus,
Spoonie Gee,
Inner City,
Subhumans,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pierre Henry,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mission of Burma,
Lou Christie,
Minutemen,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Hashim,
The Real Kids,
H. Thieme,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Moody Blues,
Los Fastidios,
The Blackbyrds,
Crash Course in Science,
CMW,
The Victims,
Max Romeo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ornette Coleman,
Derrick Morgan,
T.S.O.L.,
Brass Construction,
Patti Smith,
FM Einheit,
Funkadelic,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.