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 Ireland and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the marimba 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 F. McDonald to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Severed Heads,
Kas Product,
The United States of America,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ice-T,
The Dead C,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Soft Machine,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Faraquet,
John Coltrane,
Amon Düül,
Stockholm Monsters,
Loose Ends,
F. McDonald,
Mission of Burma,
Bronski Beat,
Lungfish,
Arcadia,
The Fortunes,
Cal Tjader,
Bob Dylan,
Janne Schatter,
The Cure,
Jeru the Damaja,
Spoonie Gee,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gang Green,
La Düsseldorf,
Babytalk,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Tears for Fears,
Ken Boothe,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marc Almond,
Supertramp,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Red Krayola,
The Modern Lovers,
Unrelated Segments,
The Names,
The Young Rascals,
Massinfluence,
Moss Icon,
The Fugs,
Oblivians,
The Happenings,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Pus,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tres Demented,
Niagra,
The Smiths,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.