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 Afghanistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mexico City.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Black Pus to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blake Baxter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Faraquet,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Music Machine,
Bang On A Can,
Mars,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nico,
Nirvana,
Jacob Miller,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sixth Finger,
Lightning Bolt,
Porter Ricks,
Darondo,
The Knickerbockers,
Cal Tjader,
Second Layer,
The Mojo Men,
Trumans Water,
Lou Reed,
Gong,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare,
Bob Dylan,
Eve St. Jones,
Joe Smooth,
Negative Approach,
The Fire Engines,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barbara Tucker,
Essential Logic,
Alice Coltrane,
Albert Ayler,
June Days,
Heaven 17,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
MDC,
Derrick Morgan,
Anakelly,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cybotron,
Black Pus,
kango's stein massive,
The Real Kids,
R.M.O.,
The Blues Magoos,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Scrapy,
Niagra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jawbox,
Surgeon,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Panda Bear,
The Star Department,
Neu!,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.