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 Sierra Leone and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 theremin 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 Harmonia to the dance 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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Aloha Tigers,
Siglo XX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Oblivians,
Minor Threat,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fugs,
the Slits,
The American Breed,
Symarip,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sister Nancy,
Lungfish,
Fear,
Judy Mowatt,
The Standells,
Girls At Our Best!,
Alison Limerick,
Fat Boys,
Mary Jane Girls,
Todd Rundgren,
Drexciya,
Dennis Brown,
Mantronix,
Thee Headcoats,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lakeside,
Das Ding,
Deepchord,
Arcadia,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jeru the Damaja,
Icehouse,
Donald Byrd,
Swell Maps,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Durutti Column,
Erasure,
John Holt,
Minutemen,
Soft Cell,
Connie Case,
Bauhaus,
Bronski Beat,
Outsiders,
The Fall,
Altered Images,
Moss Icon,
The Slackers,
the Swans,
The Five Americans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Blackbyrds,
Marc Almond,
Gang of Four,
The Count Five,
Jacques Brel,
Blancmange,
The Gun Club,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.