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 Lesotho and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron 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 The Dead C to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Scientists,
OOIOO,
Ultimate Spinach,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scott Walker,
Brothers Johnson,
Yellowson,
the Normal,
Metal Thangz,
the Swans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tres Demented,
Black Moon,
Patti Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Visage,
The Slackers,
The Residents,
Kayak,
Oneida,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Skriet,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Make Up,
Zero Boys,
Todd Terry,
Masters at Work,
Andrew Hill,
Organ,
Desert Stars,
The Angels of Light,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Grey Daturas,
The Leaves,
Goldenarms,
The Litter,
U.S. Maple,
Prince Buster,
Amazonics,
MDC,
Wasted Youth,
Dave Gahan,
Junior Murvin,
The Standells,
Marvin Gaye,
Man Eating Sloth,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Pretty Things,
Simply Red,
Hardrive,
Derrick May,
Black Pus,
Lalann,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Pharoah Sanders,
Qualms,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.