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 Lille.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 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 F. McDonald to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Monks,
Nico,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Sheep,
Charles Mingus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Yazoo,
Section 25,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Bill Near,
Urselle,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sixth Finger,
Deadbeat,
The Skatalites,
Bobby Sherman,
Matthew Bourne,
The Pretty Things,
Clear Light,
Leonard Cohen,
Grey Daturas,
Au Pairs,
Mr. Review,
Susan Cadogan,
Mars,
Technova,
Morten Harket,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Slits,
New Order,
Agitation Free,
Soft Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
R.M.O.,
Simply Red,
Alison Limerick,
Adolescents,
Nick Fraelich,
Jacques Brel,
Silicon Teens,
Slave,
Pole,
Television,
Black Moon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Sonics,
Public Enemy,
The Knickerbockers,
Index,
the Germs,
Flipper,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Chris Corsano,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Brass Construction,
Wolf Eyes,
Henry Cow,
Neu!,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.