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 Rwanda 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Holger Czukay 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 Babytalk to the punk 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heavy D & The Boyz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Blossom Toes,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mars,
Flipper,
Neu!,
The Toasters,
Urselle,
The Gladiators,
The Dirtbombs,
John Holt,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Residents,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lower 48,
The Sound,
Rites of Spring,
Yellowson,
Radio Birdman,
Jimmy McGriff,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scratch Acid,
Lungfish,
Mad Mike,
Public Image Ltd.,
Derrick Morgan,
Niagra,
Minny Pops,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bluetip,
Porter Ricks,
The Count Five,
Buzzcocks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Maurizio,
Judy Mowatt,
Pet Shop Boys,
Malaria!,
Mission of Burma,
EPMD,
Peter & Gordon,
Gang Green,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Oblivians,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Associates,
Sound Behaviour,
China Crisis,
Aural Exciters,
Sun City Girls,
Leonard Cohen,
Kaleidoscope,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tom Boy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
F. McDonald,
Faust,
Black Pus,
Janne Schatter,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.