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 Korea North and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Ornette Coleman to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rites of Spring,
Maleditus Sound,
Sixth Finger,
Rakim,
the Bar-Kays,
the Slits,
John Coltrane,
The Red Krayola,
Inner City,
Yellowson,
Deadbeat,
John Holt,
Reuben Wilson,
New York Dolls,
The Music Machine,
Radio Birdman,
Country Teasers,
Ken Boothe,
Avey Tare,
T. Rex,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Robert Wyatt,
Slave,
Joe Smooth,
Gang Green,
Archie Shepp,
Drexciya,
Marmalade,
Moss Icon,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers,
Clear Light,
Gang Gang Dance,
Circle Jerks,
The Standells,
the Soft Cell,
Tommy Roe,
The Blues Magoos,
Arcadia,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jesper Dahlback,
B.T. Express,
Carl Craig,
Oneida,
Tropical Tobacco,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Anakelly,
The Dirtbombs,
Young Marble Giants,
Judy Mowatt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alphaville,
Aloha Tigers,
David McCallum,
Peter and Kerry,
Qualms,
Ten City,
ABC,
The Techniques,
Moby Grape,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.