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 Namibia and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Harpers Bizarre to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
The Wake,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Make Up,
Al Stewart,
Khruangbin,
Fad Gadget,
Barrington Levy,
Sexual Harrassment,
The United States of America,
The Saints,
T. Rex,
Roy Ayers,
MDC,
Moebius,
Cameo,
Moby Grape,
Black Flag,
Kayak,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Yaz,
Eddi Front,
Wolf Eyes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Slave,
Index,
Sister Nancy,
Anthony Braxton,
Scott Walker,
Marcia Griffiths,
Patti Smith,
Dead Boys,
Rakim,
Eurythmics,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Doobie Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
The Invisible,
X-101,
Lungfish,
Juan Atkins,
Todd Terry,
Slick Rick,
Barclay James Harvest,
Henry Cow,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ice-T,
In Retrospect,
Gong,
Motorama,
The Misunderstood,
Public Enemy,
Newcleus,
Bang On A Can,
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Alice Coltrane,
Intrusion,
Stockholm Monsters,
Hardrive,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.