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 Libya and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Beau Brummels to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
The Sonics,
Wasted Youth,
Hot Snakes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Patti Smith,
Sunsets and Hearts,
L. Decosne,
Chris & Cosey,
John Foxx,
The Five Americans,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Banda Bassotti,
Niagra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Gories,
Bad Manners,
Aswad,
Drexciya,
The Star Department,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sexual Harrassment,
Buzzcocks,
Gang Starr,
The Fall,
Rites of Spring,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lou Christie,
Cybotron,
Peter and Kerry,
Funky Four + One,
Lightning Bolt,
Q and Not U,
Goldenarms,
Roy Ayers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Parry Music,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Von Mondo,
Minny Pops,
Scratch Acid,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jesper Dahlback,
Al Stewart,
the Sonics,
Isaac Hayes,
Public Enemy,
Alison Limerick,
Mandrill,
Matthew Halsall,
Faraquet,
Skaos,
Half Japanese,
Pole,
Matthew Bourne,
The Trojans,
June of 44,
The Neon Judgement,
Sun City Girls,
OOIOO,
Thompson Twins,
Interpol,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Rahsaan Roland Kirk.
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.