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 Ireland and from New York.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the organ 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 Symarip 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fire Engines,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bad Manners,
Camberwell Now,
Babytalk,
Urselle,
Angry Samoans,
Black Moon,
Delta 5,
Wally Richardson,
Marc Almond,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Kinks,
Amon Düül II,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Buzzcocks,
Carl Craig,
Reagan Youth,
Technova,
New Order,
FM Einheit,
Pagans,
Eddi Front,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fela Kuti,
Crash Course in Science,
Ken Boothe,
Aaron Thompson,
Funky Four + One,
The Real Kids,
Q65,
Alphaville,
Sound Behaviour,
MC5,
Eric Copeland,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Theoretical Girls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Wake,
Excepter,
Bill Wells,
Mantronix,
Lucky Dragons,
Lee Hazlewood,
Joe Finger,
Sexual Harrassment,
Flipper,
Aswad,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jandek,
The Raincoats,
Hot Snakes,
Soft Machine,
Jeff Mills,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bizarre Inc.,
ABBA,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.