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 Armenia and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 güiro 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 Little Man to the techno 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
Roy Ayers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Moby Grape,
T.S.O.L.,
Half Japanese,
The Selecter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Neon Judgement,
Kerrie Biddell,
Alison Limerick,
Angry Samoans,
Skaos,
X-102,
Nirvana,
The Pop Group,
Bill Near,
Wasted Youth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Rekid,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Tremeloes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eli Mardock,
Arcadia,
Main Source,
R.M.O.,
Slick Rick,
Minnie Riperton,
Nico,
Ken Boothe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Trojans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rakim,
Brand Nubian,
Mandrill,
The Blackbyrds,
Tom Boy,
June Days,
Radiopuhelimet,
Porter Ricks,
Alphaville,
Ice-T,
The Names,
A Certain Ratio,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Doors,
The Angels of Light,
Derrick May,
Man Parrish,
Mantronix,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yusef Lateef,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Todd Rundgren,
David Bowie,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.