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 Uruguay and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 John Coltrane to the crunk 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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Wake,
Crispy Ambulance,
Young Marble Giants,
The Blackbyrds,
Thee Headcoats,
Ornette Coleman,
the Slits,
T.S.O.L.,
Sight & Sound,
Kayak,
Cal Tjader,
PIL,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crime,
New Order,
Fluxion,
The Skatalites,
Leonard Cohen,
The Walker Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
Banda Bassotti,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
48th St. Collective,
Sex Pistols,
The Saints,
Symarip,
Scratch Acid,
Chris Corsano,
Sonic Youth,
Eve St. Jones,
Tres Demented,
Masters at Work,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jeff Mills,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lakeside,
Lou Reed,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Colin Newman,
Eurythmics,
Bill Wells,
Saccharine Trust,
The Evens,
Ohio Players,
Delta 5,
Marc Almond,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ten City,
Talk Talk,
The Blues Magoos,
DJ Sneak,
Grandmaster Flash,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Human League,
Bobby Womack,
Joyce Sims,
Lower 48,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Buckinghams,
Gabor Szabo,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.