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 Saudi Arabia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Lindisfarne to the jazz 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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Sex Pistols,
Eddi Front,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sonic Youth,
Soulsonic Force,
The Index,
the Fania All-Stars,
Judy Mowatt,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Star Department,
Grauzone,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ituana,
Crispian St. Peters,
Radiohead,
Cymande,
Agent Orange,
Bad Manners,
Silicon Teens,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gong,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Gladiators,
The Angels of Light,
Nico,
T. Rex,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
Andrew Hill,
Roy Ayers,
Sun City Girls,
the Bar-Kays,
Whodini,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Gun Club,
The Human League,
Danielle Patucci,
B.T. Express,
The Misunderstood,
Faraquet,
Angry Samoans,
Bauhaus,
Gang Green,
Negative Approach,
CMW,
Graham Central Station,
Index,
The Monks,
The Smoke,
Parry Music,
Liliput,
Leonard Cohen,
Quadrant,
Camouflage,
PIL,
Accadde A,
Banda Bassotti,
D'Angelo,
Infiniti,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.