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 Singapore and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sheep to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All The Fuzztones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Althea and Donna,
the Slits,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Slick Rick,
Johnny Clarke,
Rites of Spring,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Leaves,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Cal Tjader,
AZ,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Groovy Waters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Quando Quango,
Jimmy McGriff,
Goldenarms,
Scott Walker,
The Fall,
Monks,
The Fuzztones,
Black Bananas,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Walker Brothers,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Star Department,
Barrington Levy,
Juan Atkins,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sällskapet,
Heaven 17,
Colin Newman,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Rufus Thomas,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Monochrome Set,
Letta Mbulu,
B.T. Express,
Crooked Eye,
MDC,
The Music Machine,
Roxy Music,
Leonard Cohen,
Derrick Morgan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Technova,
Magma,
Masters at Work,
X-102,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Patti Smith,
Peter and Kerry,
Lalann,
X-101,
R.M.O.,
Toni Rubio,
Pere Ubu,
Quadrant,
Davy DMX,
The Knickerbockers,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.