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 Moldova and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 F. McDonald to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX 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?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kevin Saunderson,
Flash Fearless,
The Invisible,
Kenny Larkin,
Pierre Henry,
Pussy Galore,
Tim Buckley,
June Days,
The Trojans,
Jacques Brel,
New York Dolls,
Moss Icon,
Lightning Bolt,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ultravox,
The Selecter,
Altered Images,
The Names,
The Fugs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Raincoats,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Amon Düül II,
Thee Headcoats,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Desert Stars,
Faust,
AZ,
Albert Ayler,
Ornette Coleman,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Tommy Roe,
The Angels of Light,
Tears for Fears,
Technova,
Infiniti,
Gang Starr,
The Misunderstood,
The Star Department,
Steve Hackett,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Vogues,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chris Corsano,
Rotary Connection,
The Grass Roots,
Quando Quango,
Saccharine Trust,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Icehouse,
The Knickerbockers,
Scott Walker,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Gastr Del Sol,
Eli Mardock,
Minnie Riperton,
Sister Nancy,
Young Marble Giants,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mission of Burma,
Von Mondo,
Funky Four + One,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.