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 Swaziland and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tehran.
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 snare 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the grunge 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Crime,
Soft Machine,
Brothers Johnson,
Unwound,
The Seeds,
Yellowson,
The Standells,
Zero Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Pantaleimon,
F. McDonald,
Toni Rubio,
David McCallum,
Goldenarms,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Red Krayola,
Jerry's Kids,
The Birthday Party,
These Immortal Souls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Boz Scaggs,
The Moleskins,
New Age Steppers,
Al Stewart,
The Grass Roots,
Negative Approach,
The Kinks,
Parry Music,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rapeman,
June of 44,
Letta Mbulu,
The Real Kids,
Altered Images,
Saccharine Trust,
The Velvet Underground,
Danielle Patucci,
Anakelly,
Fat Boys,
Ituana,
The Misunderstood,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Mummies,
Mars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ten City,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Swell Maps,
Little Man,
Pierre Henry,
Terry Callier,
Pantytec,
One Last Wish,
Brand Nubian,
DNA,
The Detroit Cobras,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cheater Slicks,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.