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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yellowson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lightning Bolt,
Gabor Szabo,
Bobby Sherman,
Zapp,
The Toasters,
The Misunderstood,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fall,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Johnny Clarke,
X-102,
L. Decosne,
Soft Machine,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sandy B,
Al Stewart,
Maleditus Sound,
Eric Copeland,
Babytalk,
Pantaleimon,
Sällskapet,
Adolescents,
The Shadows of Knight,
DNA,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Minor Threat,
James White and The Blacks,
Fatback Band,
Steve Hackett,
Sister Nancy,
Blake Baxter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Dawn Penn,
Khruangbin,
Joyce Sims,
Cymande,
The Durutti Column,
The Cramps,
Suburban Knight,
Duran Duran,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Deakin,
Jeff Lynne,
World's Most,
The Gun Club,
The Cowsills,
Sparks,
Swans,
Supertramp,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brand Nubian,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Fuzztones,
The Raincoats,
F. McDonald,
Charles Mingus,
Blancmange,
Bush Tetras,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.