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 Thailand and from New York.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 Adolescents to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
The Music Machine,
Idris Muhammad,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Grauzone,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Neil Young,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jeff Mills,
Boredoms,
The Angels of Light,
This Heat,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bobby Byrd,
Josef K,
Parry Music,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Circle Jerks,
Hot Snakes,
Amon Düül,
Heaven 17,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Joyce Sims,
Todd Rundgren,
Freddie Wadling,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Electric Prunes,
The Gap Band,
David Axelrod,
The Misunderstood,
Prince Buster,
48th St. Collective,
Rekid,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bad Manners,
MC5,
Deepchord,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Excepter,
The Pretty Things,
Maleditus Sound,
The Mummies,
Saccharine Trust,
Wire,
Unrelated Segments,
Groovy Waters,
The Wake,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Pus,
Rapeman,
Ludus,
Jacob Miller,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers,
Peter & Gordon,
Crooked Eye,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dual Sessions,
Todd Terry,
the Fania All-Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.