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 Nicaragua and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the oboe 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 Susan Cadogan to the rap 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Gang Green,
Das Ding,
Zero Boys,
The Modern Lovers,
Spoonie Gee,
The Walker Brothers,
Schoolly D,
The Offenders,
Excepter,
Main Source,
Kool Moe Dee,
Angry Samoans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Brick,
Fear,
Crispian St. Peters,
Suicide,
Country Teasers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Boz Scaggs,
Peter and Kerry,
Q65,
Laurel Aitken,
The Litter,
Dawn Penn,
Tubeway Army,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jacob Miller,
Grauzone,
Simply Red,
Tom Boy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sam Rivers,
Nils Olav,
X-Ray Spex,
The Black Dice,
Severed Heads,
Yaz,
Nik Kershaw,
Hashim,
X-101,
The Cramps,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Young Rascals,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Darondo,
Audionom,
Scion,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fela Kuti,
The Divine Comedy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Anakelly,
Bush Tetras,
Sexual Harrassment,
Funky Four + One,
Joyce Sims,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.