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 Equatorial Guinea and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sex Pistols to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Underground Resistance,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Rites of Spring,
Icehouse,
Severed Heads,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marine Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Blackbyrds,
X-102,
The Five Americans,
Fela Kuti,
Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Arab on Radar,
Robert Hood,
Pole,
Yellowson,
Bush Tetras,
Nas,
Donny Hathaway,
The Skatalites,
The Moleskins,
Brick,
Oblivians,
Subhumans,
The Pretty Things,
Rotary Connection,
Silicon Teens,
The Sisters of Mercy,
John Lydon,
Angry Samoans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
DNA,
Jandek,
Cal Tjader,
Television Personalities,
The Divine Comedy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobby Sherman,
Aaron Thompson,
Scott Walker,
Pharoah Sanders,
Organ,
Black Pus,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rosa Yemen,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Buckinghams,
Kerrie Biddell,
Q and Not U,
Darondo,
Blossom Toes,
Roger Hodgson,
Alison Limerick,
Althea and Donna,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.