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 Belize and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 clarinet 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 the 40 Watt.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
Saccharine Trust,
Qualms,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Model 500,
Jacques Brel,
World's Most,
Ronnie Foster,
Sound Behaviour,
The Angels of Light,
X-102,
Reagan Youth,
Ten City,
Little Man,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Associates,
The Shadows of Knight,
Faust,
The Skatalites,
Desert Stars,
Crooked Eye,
Byron Stingily,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jeff Mills,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bush Tetras,
Cymande,
Todd Terry,
Cybotron,
Japan,
Pole,
Dual Sessions,
The Smiths,
the Slits,
The Doors,
The Sound,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Delon & Dalcan,
ABC,
Dark Day,
Joey Negro,
Los Fastidios,
Tears for Fears,
Deakin,
T. Rex,
Max Romeo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Con Funk Shun,
Bobby Sherman,
U.S. Maple,
Don Cherry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jeff Lynne,
The Gories,
Guru Guru,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.