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 Bahrain and from Toronto.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Knickerbockers to the dance 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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Arab on Radar,
The United States of America,
H. Thieme,
The Wake,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Thompson Twins,
Minutemen,
John Coltrane,
Andrew Hill,
Bronski Beat,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eli Mardock,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Names,
Vladislav Delay,
Crooked Eye,
Surgeon,
Talk Talk,
Model 500,
Groovy Waters,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Barry Ungar,
The J.B.'s,
The Mighty Diamonds,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Yazoo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Little Man,
Roy Ayers,
Rekid,
Letta Mbulu,
The Saints,
Flipper,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lucky Dragons,
Bob Dylan,
Sandy B,
Maleditus Sound,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Funkadelic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Beau Brummels,
Spandau Ballet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Slave,
The Seeds,
Henry Cow,
Joy Division,
Desert Stars,
The Young Rascals,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Slits,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Star Department,
The Busters,
Colin Newman,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Sound,
Fugazi,
Smog,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.