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 Cambodia and from Delhi.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 The Offenders to the jazz 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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Junior Murvin,
Livin' Joy,
Anthony Braxton,
The Monks,
The Saints,
ABBA,
Quadrant,
Mark Hollis,
Lindisfarne,
Brand Nubian,
Masters at Work,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dennis Brown,
Rekid,
Graham Central Station,
Soul II Soul,
Suicide,
Ronnie Foster,
48th St. Collective,
Boz Scaggs,
Index,
Television Personalities,
Prince Buster,
Royal Trux,
Arcadia,
The Smoke,
Bob Dylan,
Sparks,
Gang Starr,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Wyatt,
Talk Talk,
Mo-Dettes,
the Sonics,
Barry Ungar,
Gregory Isaacs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pylon,
Hashim,
Bad Manners,
Delon & Dalcan,
The New Christs,
The Real Kids,
Neu!,
Youth Brigade,
Moss Icon,
Slick Rick,
Young Marble Giants,
Flamin' Groovies,
Mission of Burma,
Robert Görl,
The Cramps,
Matthew Halsall,
Johnny Clarke,
The Doors,
Rites of Spring,
Cameo,
Faust,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.