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 Eritrea and from Taipei.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Camberwell Now to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sound. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Chris Corsano,
Quadrant,
June of 44,
The United States of America,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Monks,
Severed Heads,
The Doobie Brothers,
Derrick Morgan,
The Mummies,
The Black Dice,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jimmy McGriff,
JFA,
Swell Maps,
Japan,
Darondo,
John Holt,
The Associates,
Marvin Gaye,
Fluxion,
Bootsy Collins,
The Buckinghams,
Althea and Donna,
Grey Daturas,
Funkadelic,
Pole,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Skaos,
Black Sheep,
Ornette Coleman,
John Coltrane,
Juan Atkins,
Unrelated Segments,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Cure,
Charles Mingus,
Cheater Slicks,
The Motions,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Throbbing Gristle,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Harmonia,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Animal Collective,
Peter & Gordon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soft Machine,
The Martian,
Marc Almond,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Durutti Column,
The Trojans,
Neil Young,
Prince Buster,
Half Japanese,
The Saints,
Ponytail,
Subhumans,
Nas,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.