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 Nauru and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Black Bananas to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Duran Duran,
The Barracudas,
Oblivians,
The Smiths,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hoover,
Alice Coltrane,
Funky Four + One,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Residents,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tim Buckley,
The Martian,
D'Angelo,
Crispian St. Peters,
This Heat,
Minor Threat,
Lakeside,
Wire,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Standells,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
EPMD,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Sound Behaviour,
Mark Hollis,
Underground Resistance,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Grey Daturas,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Flag,
Rosa Yemen,
Animal Collective,
Scratch Acid,
Harpers Bizarre,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Pus,
Country Teasers,
Ponytail,
Pere Ubu,
Lightning Bolt,
Godley & Creme,
Boz Scaggs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pantytec,
The Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Faraquet,
Crooked Eye,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pole,
Deadbeat,
The Doors,
Unrelated Segments,
Scion,
The Happenings,
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.