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 Tanzania and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 arpeggiator 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 Bang On A Can to the dance 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cosmic Jokers 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
The Stooges,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lindisfarne,
Ohio Players,
The New Christs,
Chrome,
R.M.O.,
Radiopuhelimet,
Livin' Joy,
The Red Krayola,
Wire,
Bobby Womack,
Lee Hazlewood,
Archie Shepp,
Scratch Acid,
Man Parrish,
Rites of Spring,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Steve Hackett,
Sun City Girls,
Flash Fearless,
The Selecter,
Sandy B,
Colin Newman,
Idris Muhammad,
Das Ding,
Matthew Bourne,
Desert Stars,
Ice-T,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Bar-Kays,
Average White Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Human League,
The Happenings,
Dennis Brown,
Barrington Levy,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Can,
Altered Images,
John Cale,
Anakelly,
The Blues Magoos,
The Invisible,
Franke,
Dead Boys,
Tears for Fears,
Smog,
ABBA,
Johnny Clarke,
CMW,
The Cosmic Jokers,
H. Thieme,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bush Tetras,
The Misunderstood,
Arcadia,
Skarface,
Lightning Bolt,
Drexciya,
Circle Jerks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.