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 Netherlands and from Houston.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Raincoats to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Cameo,
The Black Dice,
The Knickerbockers,
Average White Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fuzztones,
Bobby Womack,
Minutemen,
Ultra Naté,
Khruangbin,
Dual Sessions,
The Electric Prunes,
Quadrant,
Arab on Radar,
The Alarm Clocks,
Toni Rubio,
Public Enemy,
A Certain Ratio,
Yusef Lateef,
Glenn Branca,
Suicide,
Quantec,
Infiniti,
The J.B.'s,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Can,
Basic Channel,
Cluster,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Divine Comedy,
Deadbeat,
This Heat,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang Green,
New York Dolls,
Minny Pops,
The New Christs,
Panda Bear,
KRS-One,
R.M.O.,
Y Pants,
Lightning Bolt,
Joe Finger,
Sällskapet,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Roxy Music,
Spoonie Gee,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Funkadelic,
Aural Exciters,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Dirtbombs,
Aaron Thompson,
The Smiths,
Shuggie Otis,
kango's stein massive,
John Foxx,
Don Cherry,
Trumans Water,
Monolake,
JFA,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.