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 Ireland and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin 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 The Sisters of Mercy to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Avey Tare,
The Dead C,
KRS-One,
Technova,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Graham Central Station,
Arthur Verocai,
Slave,
Joy Division,
The Velvet Underground,
Chris & Cosey,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lower 48,
New York Dolls,
the Swans,
Cheater Slicks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Morten Harket,
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Sugar Minott,
Alton Ellis,
The Black Dice,
K-Klass,
Skriet,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sonny Sharrock,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Litter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ten City,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Amon Düül II,
Pere Ubu,
These Immortal Souls,
Excepter,
Duran Duran,
New Age Steppers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Von Mondo,
Barbara Tucker,
Eric Dolphy,
Bootsy Collins,
Average White Band,
Anakelly,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eden Ahbez,
Roy Ayers,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Flipper,
Josef K,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobby Sherman,
Qualms,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.