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 Slovakia and from Tehran.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Television Personalities to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Index,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Aural Exciters,
Chris Corsano,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Move,
Sex Pistols,
Gabor Szabo,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gap Band,
Altered Images,
The Skatalites,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fad Gadget,
Janne Schatter,
The Cure,
Flipper,
Nico,
D'Angelo,
Organ,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eric Dolphy,
The Dirtbombs,
Moebius,
Blake Baxter,
Arab on Radar,
Can,
The Leaves,
The Blues Magoos,
Flash Fearless,
Unwound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Connie Case,
Guru Guru,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Searchers,
Ten City,
Kurtis Blow,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-101,
The Residents,
Animal Collective,
Grauzone,
Surgeon,
Stereo Dub,
James White and The Blacks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fat Boys,
Loose Ends,
Simply Red,
The Remains,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Minutemen,
Soulsonic Force,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fela Kuti,
Television,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.