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 Samoa and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sex Pistols to the funk 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 X-102. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Cell,
48th St. Collective,
Urselle,
K-Klass,
F. McDonald,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Evens,
The Black Dice,
Soul II Soul,
Bob Dylan,
Warsaw,
Goldenarms,
Thompson Twins,
Ituana,
Symarip,
Gastr Del Sol,
DNA,
Saccharine Trust,
Public Image Ltd.,
David Bowie,
Joe Finger,
A Certain Ratio,
Funky Four + One,
Bootsy Collins,
D'Angelo,
Cameo,
Magma,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pylon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Iggy Pop,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Stooges,
The Grass Roots,
Radiohead,
Nation of Ulysses,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barbara Tucker,
Kayak,
Rakim,
a-ha,
Hoover,
Easy Going,
Gerry Rafferty,
Chris & Cosey,
Judy Mowatt,
Circle Jerks,
Scion,
The Mummies,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Brick,
Khruangbin,
Royal Trux,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bad Manners,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.