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 Lille.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Eric Dolphy to the techno 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 The Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Spandau Ballet,
Pylon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mark Hollis,
Altered Images,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wings,
Marcia Griffiths,
Amazonics,
Alton Ellis,
Amon Düül II,
The Leaves,
Soulsonic Force,
Animal Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fire Engines,
Piero Umiliani,
DNA,
Minutemen,
The Sound,
Tom Boy,
Crooked Eye,
10cc,
Mr. Review,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sandy B,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Panda Bear,
Saccharine Trust,
Eli Mardock,
Max Romeo,
The Black Dice,
Warsaw,
Infiniti,
Joe Finger,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultra Naté,
Minnie Riperton,
Dave Gahan,
The Residents,
Nirvana,
Scrapy,
Hoover,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
This Heat,
Leonard Cohen,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Groovy Waters,
DJ Style,
Dawn Penn,
Loose Ends,
Unwound,
Bill Near,
The Velvet Underground,
Shoche,
Harry Pussy,
Matthew Bourne,
Robert Görl,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.