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 Philippines and from New York.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Tommy Roe to the dance 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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Public Image Ltd.,
Brand Nubian,
Bill Wells,
Dave Gahan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joey Negro,
Andrew Hill,
Wasted Youth,
Eddi Front,
Judy Mowatt,
Pierre Henry,
Prince Buster,
The Modern Lovers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tres Demented,
Von Mondo,
Dark Day,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marine Girls,
Mark Hollis,
Arab on Radar,
CMW,
Unrelated Segments,
JFA,
The Victims,
Kenny Larkin,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
8 Eyed Spy,
John Cale,
Procol Harum,
Hardrive,
LL Cool J,
Alison Limerick,
Sandy B,
Patti Smith,
Porter Ricks,
Stetsasonic,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Goldenarms,
Harry Pussy,
Byron Stingily,
Duran Duran,
Radiohead,
Livin' Joy,
Joe Finger,
Aaron Thompson,
Cal Tjader,
T. Rex,
Ultravox,
The Remains,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kurtis Blow,
The Wake,
The Techniques,
Albert Ayler,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Mummies,
Au Pairs,
The Happenings,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.