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 Namibia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 clarinet 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 The Flesh Eaters to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Connie Case 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Josef K,
Yazoo,
Blake Baxter,
DJ Style,
Animal Collective,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Electric Prunes,
Underground Resistance,
Faraquet,
Skriet,
The Red Krayola,
X-102,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Byron Stingily,
The Real Kids,
Bronski Beat,
Patti Smith,
Echospace,
Bobby Sherman,
Avey Tare,
Lakeside,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Public Enemy,
John Foxx,
Radio Birdman,
Alphaville,
David McCallum,
The Fuzztones,
Piero Umiliani,
Bad Manners,
Bootsy Collins,
Scrapy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Heaven 17,
Al Stewart,
Mr. Review,
Tubeway Army,
D'Angelo,
Accadde A,
Slick Rick,
Au Pairs,
Interpol,
Rites of Spring,
Reagan Youth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Brass Construction,
Ronnie Foster,
Sun City Girls,
Spoonie Gee,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
OOIOO,
Steve Hackett,
Pierre Henry,
The Golliwogs,
Malaria!,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ice-T,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.