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 Algeria and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Shuggie Otis to the techno 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
the Bar-Kays,
The Toasters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rites of Spring,
Unwound,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kaleidoscope,
Organ,
The Dave Clark Five,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Sherman,
Oblivians,
Bizarre Inc.,
Archie Shepp,
Throbbing Gristle,
Loose Ends,
Davy DMX,
Franke,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Angels of Light,
Moebius,
Animal Collective,
Tubeway Army,
Todd Terry,
The Birthday Party,
Crooked Eye,
Desert Stars,
Jacob Miller,
Urselle,
Warsaw,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Skarface,
One Last Wish,
Pere Ubu,
MC5,
Jacques Brel,
Kayak,
Section 25,
Suburban Knight,
Interpol,
This Heat,
Nirvana,
DNA,
Fear,
Ponytail,
Faust,
Boz Scaggs,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nick Fraelich,
The Happenings,
Bob Dylan,
The Moody Blues,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Technova,
Supertramp,
The Golliwogs,
The Victims,
The Dirtbombs,
The Pretty Things,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.