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 Mozambique and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 sitar 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 CMW to the punk 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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
The Beau Brummels,
The Electric Prunes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marine Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
In Retrospect,
Sound Behaviour,
the Normal,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Smog,
Spandau Ballet,
Aural Exciters,
Basic Channel,
The Searchers,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Banda Bassotti,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Neon Judgement,
Vainqueur,
Deadbeat,
Duran Duran,
John Holt,
Lower 48,
The Barracudas,
Peter and Kerry,
Mission of Burma,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Archie Shepp,
Jeru the Damaja,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Thee Headcoats,
The Blackbyrds,
Albert Ayler,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Suburban Knight,
Absolute Body Control,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Harry Pussy,
Morten Harket,
Negative Approach,
Neu!,
Adolescents,
The Zeros,
Little Man,
Technova,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rod Modell,
L. Decosne,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scion,
The American Breed,
Fluxion,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.