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 Dominican Republic and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Hong Kong.
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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Freddie Wadling to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mo-Dettes. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Count Five,
Maurizio,
Josef K,
Bizarre Inc.,
Prince Buster,
Alice Coltrane,
Robert Hood,
Suburban Knight,
The Leaves,
Arcadia,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minutemen,
Echospace,
Letta Mbulu,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rotary Connection,
Livin' Joy,
Mr. Review,
Jacob Miller,
The Durutti Column,
the Human League,
Urselle,
The Young Rascals,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pylon,
Tommy Roe,
Don Cherry,
Rhythm & Sound,
Excepter,
Tom Boy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mars,
The Moody Blues,
Amazonics,
Yellowson,
Freddie Wadling,
Derrick May,
H. Thieme,
Basic Channel,
Chris Corsano,
MC5,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Main Source,
Barclay James Harvest,
Index,
Alton Ellis,
K-Klass,
Bill Near,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lalo Schifrin,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Magazine,
Bluetip,
Clear Light,
Tres Demented,
the Association,
Lalann,
Wasted Youth,
the Soft Cell,
Eric Dolphy,
Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie, Lou Christie.
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.