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 Colombia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 Kaleidoscope to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
the Association,
Bush Tetras,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Robert Görl,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Saints,
Yellowson,
Laurel Aitken,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Raincoats,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ronnie Foster,
Mission of Burma,
Kerrie Biddell,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Young Rascals,
Peter and Kerry,
Roy Ayers,
Sandy B,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Unwound,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Last Poets,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fat Boys,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Skatalites,
Bill Wells,
The Dirtbombs,
Japan,
Von Mondo,
Eddi Front,
Talk Talk,
Crispian St. Peters,
Anakelly,
Fluxion,
Swell Maps,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
Tomorrow,
Alice Coltrane,
The Velvet Underground,
The Sonics,
Fad Gadget,
Niagra,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Peter & Gordon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Barrington Levy,
Bluetip,
The Zeros,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Albert Ayler,
Tears for Fears,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.