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 Togo and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 theremin 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 Lee Hazlewood 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Laurel Aitken,
Ronnie Foster,
Sparks,
Black Sheep,
Radio Birdman,
Marine Girls,
Stereo Dub,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quando Quango,
Alton Ellis,
Deepchord,
the Normal,
the Association,
Moby Grape,
The Monks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Neu!,
Barry Ungar,
Lebanon Hanover,
Technova,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Grey Daturas,
Half Japanese,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Shadows of Knight,
Khruangbin,
The Red Krayola,
Monks,
Model 500,
Eric Dolphy,
Talk Talk,
The Electric Prunes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Derrick May,
Banda Bassotti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Offenders,
Au Pairs,
the Germs,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Cure,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pagans,
Qualms,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
kango's stein massive,
Don Cherry,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Black Dice,
Sonny Sharrock,
Josef K,
Cheater Slicks,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.