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 Burkina and from Paris.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Fatback Band to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Womack,
Absolute Body Control,
Wasted Youth,
Bush Tetras,
New Order,
Brothers Johnson,
Das Ding,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Techniques,
Skriet,
Sight & Sound,
Essential Logic,
Ten City,
Joe Smooth,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Remains,
Bob Dylan,
the Germs,
Mr. Review,
Babytalk,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Yellowson,
Harpers Bizarre,
Youth Brigade,
Shoche,
The Toasters,
Grauzone,
The Wake,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Peter and Kerry,
Severed Heads,
Roy Ayers,
World's Most,
Eric Copeland,
Laurel Aitken,
Eric B and Rakim,
D'Angelo,
Chris Corsano,
Black Bananas,
Buzzcocks,
Technova,
Joe Finger,
The Doors,
Danielle Patucci,
Eve St. Jones,
FM Einheit,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Y Pants,
The Angels of Light,
The Fuzztones,
The Velvet Underground,
Vladislav Delay,
Los Fastidios,
The Red Krayola,
Sixth Finger,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Masters at Work,
Stetsasonic,
Curtis Mayfield,
Ossler,
Electric Prunes,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.