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 Swaziland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba 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 Bobby Sherman to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz 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 mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Darondo,
F. McDonald,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Unwound,
Hoover,
Ossler,
DNA,
Black Sheep,
The Kinks,
Subhumans,
Bill Near,
Siglo XX,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Sound,
Dead Boys,
Warsaw,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scientists,
Porter Ricks,
Tommy Roe,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Josef K,
DJ Style,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rosa Yemen,
New York Dolls,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Count Five,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Saints,
David McCallum,
Robert Wyatt,
The Names,
Lower 48,
Al Stewart,
Youth Brigade,
Eve St. Jones,
Albert Ayler,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roxy Music,
Ronan,
Pulsallama,
The Knickerbockers,
The Last Poets,
Magma,
The Offenders,
A Certain Ratio,
Angry Samoans,
Black Bananas,
X-101,
The Moleskins,
The Fuzztones,
The Toasters,
Nirvana,
Hardrive,
Swans,
Thee Headcoats,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.