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 Portugal and from Spokane.
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 Bremen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sex Pistols to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Judy Mowatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Danielle Patucci,
The Black Dice,
The Standells,
Jawbox,
OOIOO,
Sugar Minott,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Accadde A,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Smoke,
Tears for Fears,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA,
Television,
Mission of Burma,
The Knickerbockers,
Camberwell Now,
Cal Tjader,
Section 25,
Fela Kuti,
Barclay James Harvest,
Archie Shepp,
Jeru the Damaja,
Andrew Hill,
David Bowie,
The Wake,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pere Ubu,
The Offenders,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Zero Boys,
T.S.O.L.,
Crash Course in Science,
Jeff Lynne,
Chris Corsano,
Franke,
cv313,
Das Ding,
Depeche Mode,
Ronan,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Derrick May,
John Holt,
Wasted Youth,
Television Personalities,
Excepter,
The Star Department,
Hashim,
Harpers Bizarre,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Black Moon,
Lindisfarne,
Newcleus,
Curtis Mayfield,
Deadbeat,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.