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 Bhutan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer 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 Rufus Thomas to the techno 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Sex Pistols,
The Gories,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Moleskins,
Bad Manners,
Junior Murvin,
Harpers Bizarre,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Searchers,
Hardrive,
Al Stewart,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Porter Ricks,
Second Layer,
Loose Ends,
Buzzcocks,
A Certain Ratio,
Yaz,
Little Man,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
OOIOO,
Lakeside,
Eddi Front,
Jacques Brel,
The Toasters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Country Teasers,
Negative Approach,
Wings,
Icehouse,
Nils Olav,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Nik Kershaw,
UT,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Maurizio,
Anthony Braxton,
Motorama,
Sun City Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Joe Smooth,
Bronski Beat,
The Sonics,
The Fire Engines,
Surgeon,
David McCallum,
Piero Umiliani,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Skriet,
Radiohead,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Dead Boys,
Smog,
Danielle Patucci,
Theoretical Girls,
Barbara Tucker,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scratch Acid,
The Monks,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.