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 Burkina and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Hot Snakes to the jazz 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 Leaves. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Chocolate Watch Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Slave,
Joy Division,
Sound Behaviour,
The Last Poets,
Gregory Isaacs,
Toni Rubio,
Au Pairs,
Sexual Harrassment,
James White and The Blacks,
Al Stewart,
Deepchord,
Althea and Donna,
Wally Richardson,
Bill Wells,
Hardrive,
Tom Boy,
Jimmy McGriff,
La Düsseldorf,
Todd Rundgren,
Grauzone,
The Misunderstood,
Piero Umiliani,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bush Tetras,
Derrick May,
Lightning Bolt,
The Moleskins,
Visage,
Rosa Yemen,
the Slits,
Section 25,
Thompson Twins,
Sam Rivers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gichy Dan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Maurizio,
Tears for Fears,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Desert Stars,
Nico,
Sonny Sharrock,
Suburban Knight,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cymande,
Lower 48,
Panda Bear,
Vainqueur,
Altered Images,
Wings,
Quadrant,
The Buckinghams,
Grey Daturas,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Soft Cell,
The Move,
Chris Corsano,
Leonard Cohen,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.