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 Algeria and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet 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 Malaria! to the disco 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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
Matthew Halsall,
John Foxx,
Mary Jane Girls,
Soft Cell,
John Coltrane,
Television Personalities,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Grass Roots,
Colin Newman,
Lakeside,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Slits,
Lucky Dragons,
Quando Quango,
Sparks,
Sun Ra,
Thee Headcoats,
Donald Byrd,
Neu!,
Loose Ends,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Jeru the Damaja,
Can,
Depeche Mode,
Letta Mbulu,
Sandy B,
The Martian,
Dennis Brown,
Adolescents,
Accadde A,
Inner City,
Bauhaus,
Tubeway Army,
Popol Vuh,
10cc,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Dave Clark Five,
Althea and Donna,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bronski Beat,
DNA,
Soft Machine,
Scion,
John Cale,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Vogues,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Lungfish,
kango's stein massive,
Fugazi,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Nico,
Moby Grape,
the Sonics,
The Blues Magoos,
Echospace,
E-Dancer,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.