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 Cambodia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 rhodes 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 The Associates to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Harpers Bizarre,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Patti Smith,
Pulsallama,
Faraquet,
Funky Four + One,
Spoonie Gee,
Grauzone,
The Black Dice,
the Association,
Pantaleimon,
the Germs,
Quando Quango,
Neu!,
Marc Almond,
Byron Stingily,
Rites of Spring,
Harry Pussy,
Liliput,
Bang On A Can,
Peter and Kerry,
The Selecter,
Popol Vuh,
Pet Shop Boys,
Juan Atkins,
Jawbox,
Blake Baxter,
Subhumans,
Gastr Del Sol,
L. Decosne,
The Monochrome Set,
The Stooges,
Black Moon,
Crime,
Aaron Thompson,
Eli Mardock,
Blossom Toes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Angels of Light,
Al Stewart,
Nils Olav,
Rotary Connection,
K-Klass,
Dorothy Ashby,
Laurel Aitken,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eric Dolphy,
Terry Callier,
The Offenders,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Index,
Flipper,
Joe Finger,
Donald Byrd,
Delta 5,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mandrill,
Youth Brigade,
Absolute Body Control,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.