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 Tanzania and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Charles Mingus to the punk 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Don Cherry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alton Ellis,
The Fortunes,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ash Ra Tempel,
R.M.O.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Pretty Things,
Bill Near,
Deakin,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scrapy,
John Holt,
Newcleus,
LL Cool J,
Joe Finger,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Robert Hood,
Freddie Wadling,
Slick Rick,
The Stooges,
Black Flag,
Banda Bassotti,
Pulsallama,
Motorama,
Public Enemy,
The Tremeloes,
Josef K,
Gong,
Arab on Radar,
David Axelrod,
Ituana,
Sparks,
Bush Tetras,
Black Moon,
Slave,
Camberwell Now,
Blossom Toes,
Gang Green,
Buzzcocks,
Sonic Youth,
Robert Görl,
Brand Nubian,
the Germs,
The Martian,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Erasure,
Boz Scaggs,
Accadde A,
The Pop Group,
the Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
Soulsonic Force,
The Velvet Underground,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pussy Galore,
The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers, The Slackers.
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.