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 Cyprus and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 güiro 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 Glambeats Corp. 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 Jawbox. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
The Smiths,
The Sonics,
Half Japanese,
Sun Ra,
Don Cherry,
Minutemen,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fad Gadget,
Popol Vuh,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Modern Lovers,
Spoonie Gee,
a-ha,
World's Most,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nico,
Bauhaus,
Hardrive,
Sound Behaviour,
Eric Dolphy,
Sandy B,
Duran Duran,
The Barracudas,
The Invisible,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Victims,
The Gories,
Zero Boys,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bill Near,
Quando Quango,
Gang Gang Dance,
Chrome,
Mars,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Slackers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dave Gahan,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
John Cale,
Minnie Riperton,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Judy Mowatt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
F. McDonald,
Minny Pops,
The Dead C,
Zapp,
Darondo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Brass Construction,
Grey Daturas,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Knickerbockers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.