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 Saudi Arabia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 harpsichord 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 Dawn Penn to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jawbox record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ponytail,
Vladislav Delay,
The Star Department,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Slits,
Cluster,
The Kinks,
Wings,
Man Eating Sloth,
One Last Wish,
Lyres,
Brand Nubian,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crash Course in Science,
Ossler,
Simply Red,
Anthony Braxton,
Rapeman,
Eric Dolphy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Young Rascals,
Jawbox,
Rufus Thomas,
China Crisis,
Bobby Byrd,
Heaven 17,
Robert Wyatt,
Grauzone,
The Real Kids,
the Swans,
Morten Harket,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deadbeat,
Wasted Youth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
U.S. Maple,
The Cramps,
Bluetip,
X-101,
Gang of Four,
Deepchord,
Drexciya,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
F. McDonald,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ronnie Foster,
Tears for Fears,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Organ,
The Black Dice,
Swans,
Rosa Yemen,
Cheater Slicks,
Don Cherry,
The Pop Group,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.