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 Eritrea and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sight & Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sight & Sound,
Erykah Badu,
Roxy Music,
The Selecter,
JFA,
The Real Kids,
Junior Murvin,
Monks,
Oneida,
Y Pants,
Wings,
Eric Copeland,
EPMD,
Moss Icon,
Blancmange,
The Barracudas,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mantronix,
Johnny Clarke,
Gabor Szabo,
Barry Ungar,
Amon Düül II,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Underground Resistance,
AZ,
Unrelated Segments,
Mr. Review,
Camouflage,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Red Krayola,
Anthony Braxton,
Black Flag,
Todd Rundgren,
Soulsonic Force,
The Cowsills,
Matthew Bourne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Althea and Donna,
Moby Grape,
Ultravox,
Tears for Fears,
John Coltrane,
The Misunderstood,
Stereo Dub,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Detroit Cobras,
10cc,
The Cramps,
Half Japanese,
Minutemen,
Dark Day,
Nas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Zeros,
Soft Machine,
The Evens,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Outsiders,
Alphaville,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.