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 Madagascar and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 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 Roger Hodgson to the jazz 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Grass Roots,
Malaria!,
The American Breed,
Anthony Braxton,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Young Marble Giants,
Cymande,
John Coltrane,
Wolf Eyes,
The Move,
Lalo Schifrin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Soft Cell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Youth Brigade,
Delon & Dalcan,
D'Angelo,
Freddie Wadling,
Sex Pistols,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Camouflage,
The Gladiators,
Scientists,
Maleditus Sound,
Can,
Tres Demented,
Roger Hodgson,
Sonic Youth,
X-Ray Spex,
The Mummies,
Bang On A Can,
Yusef Lateef,
Chris Corsano,
La Düsseldorf,
The Five Americans,
Gichy Dan,
Peter & Gordon,
The J.B.'s,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tomorrow,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Skatalites,
The Angels of Light,
Avey Tare,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sixth Finger,
Alton Ellis,
Kurtis Blow,
Black Sheep,
Mr. Review,
Oblivians,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Alphaville,
Smog,
Gang Starr,
Outsiders,
Joyce Sims,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!, Girls At Our Best!.
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.