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 Paraguay and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Sandy B to the rap 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
Malaria!,
CMW,
Janne Schatter,
L. Decosne,
Flamin' Groovies,
Minny Pops,
Sex Pistols,
Pet Shop Boys,
Drexciya,
Shuggie Otis,
Crash Course in Science,
Johnny Clarke,
Marmalade,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fluxion,
Lucky Dragons,
Terrestrial Tones,
Model 500,
Lungfish,
Bluetip,
Gong,
Jacob Miller,
The Buckinghams,
Minutemen,
Todd Terry,
Derrick Morgan,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cameo,
The Monks,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Cure,
Cecil Taylor,
The Invisible,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Neon Judgement,
KRS-One,
Clear Light,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Knickerbockers,
Y Pants,
These Immortal Souls,
Barry Ungar,
Make Up,
MDC,
Suburban Knight,
The Golliwogs,
Television Personalities,
Henry Cow,
Dawn Penn,
Depeche Mode,
The Five Americans,
DJ Sneak,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Circle Jerks,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.