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 Jordan and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Barrington Levy 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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Crooked Eye,
Tom Boy,
The Trojans,
Pussy Galore,
Ice-T,
Masters at Work,
The Motions,
Gregory Isaacs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cameo,
Steve Hackett,
Goldenarms,
Skriet,
Surgeon,
Prince Buster,
The American Breed,
Subhumans,
Ludus,
The Stooges,
Ten City,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rites of Spring,
Khruangbin,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scrapy,
Nico,
Lee Hazlewood,
Neu!,
Don Cherry,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Misunderstood,
Basic Channel,
Lucky Dragons,
Chrome,
Faraquet,
the Swans,
Hasil Adkins,
Sixth Finger,
Rakim,
The Gladiators,
The Vogues,
Anakelly,
Lindisfarne,
The Divine Comedy,
Letta Mbulu,
The Mojo Men,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Names,
Eddi Front,
Technova,
A Certain Ratio,
New Order,
China Crisis,
Fela Kuti,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gang Starr,
The Wake,
Country Teasers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Slits,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.