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 Malawi and from Milan.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
the Association,
The Five Americans,
Buzzcocks,
Smog,
Japan,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Yaz,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Terry Callier,
The Divine Comedy,
The Toasters,
Pulsallama,
Barbara Tucker,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rufus Thomas,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Average White Band,
Quantec,
Guru Guru,
Tubeway Army,
Fela Kuti,
Tim Buckley,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kool Moe Dee,
Q and Not U,
Archie Shepp,
Joensuu 1685,
Gabor Szabo,
Pantaleimon,
Monolake,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Slits,
John Foxx,
Warsaw,
Brothers Johnson,
Marc Almond,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Hashim,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Litter,
The Pretty Things,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wings,
Minutemen,
Erasure,
Dennis Brown,
New Age Steppers,
The Searchers,
Kurtis Blow,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Excepter,
Lee Hazlewood,
T. Rex,
Pere Ubu,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.