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 Kyrgyzstan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the guitar 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 Bush Tetras to the grunge 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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Massinfluence,
Black Pus,
Technova,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Can,
Maurizio,
Ituana,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Scan 7,
Magma,
Jimmy McGriff,
Junior Murvin,
Surgeon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
David McCallum,
Harpers Bizarre,
Grauzone,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lalann,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
LL Cool J,
Suicide,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gastr Del Sol,
R.M.O.,
Aloha Tigers,
Kerri Chandler,
The Victims,
Peter & Gordon,
Stetsasonic,
June of 44,
Blancmange,
Scott Walker,
The Divine Comedy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kerrie Biddell,
Hasil Adkins,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Detroit Cobras,
Circle Jerks,
Barrington Levy,
Subhumans,
Joey Negro,
Soul II Soul,
The Smiths,
Terry Callier,
Vladislav Delay,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lungfish,
Accadde A,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Khruangbin,
Faraquet,
E-Dancer,
Vainqueur,
Silicon Teens,
Fear,
Alton Ellis,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.