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 Spain and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 arpeggiator 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 Das Ding to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
The Names,
The Velvet Underground,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Motorama,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ten City,
Trumans Water,
Joe Smooth,
Chris Corsano,
Robert Wyatt,
Alton Ellis,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jacob Miller,
the Normal,
Soul II Soul,
The Fall,
Eli Mardock,
Ronnie Foster,
Saccharine Trust,
the Sonics,
Idris Muhammad,
John Cale,
The Fortunes,
The Moody Blues,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Judy Mowatt,
The Seeds,
Public Image Ltd.,
Black Bananas,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
cv313,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cameo,
Franke,
OOIOO,
Hasil Adkins,
Swell Maps,
The Fuzztones,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
T. Rex,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultra Naté,
Patti Smith,
Desert Stars,
Brick,
Sex Pistols,
Boz Scaggs,
Sam Rivers,
Ludus,
Massinfluence,
Q65,
Black Moon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Fela Kuti,
Eddi Front,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.