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 Bangladesh and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer 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 Boredoms 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Pussy Galore,
Stereo Dub,
CMW,
L. Decosne,
Susan Cadogan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cheater Slicks,
Donald Byrd,
Piero Umiliani,
Zapp,
Junior Murvin,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare,
Drive Like Jehu,
Procol Harum,
Pylon,
The Black Dice,
Al Stewart,
Absolute Body Control,
Magma,
Babytalk,
Sonny Sharrock,
Prince Buster,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Five Americans,
Matthew Bourne,
Nirvana,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Donny Hathaway,
Juan Atkins,
H. Thieme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gil Scott Heron,
Das Ding,
Country Teasers,
Eve St. Jones,
Spandau Ballet,
The Red Krayola,
Supertramp,
Livin' Joy,
Television Personalities,
Chrome,
Minutemen,
Yellowson,
Cal Tjader,
Trumans Water,
Technova,
Clear Light,
Tim Buckley,
The Blues Magoos,
John Holt,
Oblivians,
Metal Thangz,
The Toasters,
Anthony Braxton,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Danielle Patucci,
Maurizio,
Boogie Down Productions,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sam Rivers,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.