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 Belize and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 arpeggiator 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 The Blues Magoos 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Harry Pussy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Move,
Brick,
Audionom,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Angry Samoans,
Cal Tjader,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Connie Case,
DJ Style,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Shuggie Otis,
Ohio Players,
Sister Nancy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Zero Boys,
Marc Almond,
The Smiths,
The Doors,
Neu!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nico,
Pussy Galore,
Nirvana,
The Wake,
John Lydon,
Jawbox,
Average White Band,
Minor Threat,
K-Klass,
Eden Ahbez,
Cheater Slicks,
The Barracudas,
Lakeside,
Easy Going,
Electric Prunes,
Boz Scaggs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
David McCallum,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mission of Burma,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pet Shop Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Eric Dolphy,
Sällskapet,
Crash Course in Science,
Niagra,
Camberwell Now,
New Order,
Gastr Del Sol,
Anakelly,
Lalann,
Girls At Our Best!,
Terrestrial Tones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joe Finger,
Ralphi Rosario,
Roger Hodgson,
The Vogues,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.