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 Suriname and from Glasgow.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Moebius to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Bluetip,
Agent Orange,
DJ Sneak,
Black Sheep,
Chrome,
Bobby Womack,
The Busters,
Charles Mingus,
The Smoke,
Reagan Youth,
Aaron Thompson,
The Raincoats,
James White and The Blacks,
Gang Starr,
Drexciya,
The Pretty Things,
X-Ray Spex,
The Beau Brummels,
The Techniques,
Index,
Thee Headcoats,
Buzzcocks,
KRS-One,
the Bar-Kays,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Anakelly,
The Young Rascals,
The Victims,
Eric Copeland,
Alphaville,
The Pop Group,
Pussy Galore,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brick,
Delta 5,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pet Shop Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Motorama,
The Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
Amon Düül,
Godley & Creme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
cv313,
Brass Construction,
The Residents,
Chris & Cosey,
Wasted Youth,
Tres Demented,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Procol Harum,
Organ,
Deakin,
Stetsasonic,
the Slits,
Japan,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.