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 Albania and from Lille.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Boz Scaggs to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Barbara Tucker,
Talk Talk,
48th St. Collective,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Index,
Interpol,
Charles Mingus,
The Vogues,
Yaz,
Prince Buster,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Amon Düül II,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Susan Cadogan,
The Dirtbombs,
Los Fastidios,
Dennis Brown,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rites of Spring,
Glenn Branca,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Offenders,
Throbbing Gristle,
Livin' Joy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cecil Taylor,
Franke,
Tomorrow,
Spoonie Gee,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Cale,
Y Pants,
Soft Cell,
Silicon Teens,
The Angels of Light,
Albert Ayler,
Bobby Byrd,
Fela Kuti,
Wasted Youth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Make Up,
Suicide,
Peter and Kerry,
Terry Callier,
Underground Resistance,
Porter Ricks,
Bluetip,
the Slits,
Gang of Four,
The Cowsills,
Nation of Ulysses,
ABBA,
F. McDonald,
The Skatalites,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Crime,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Babytalk,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.