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 Netherlands and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the theremin 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 J.B.'s to the crunk 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
David McCallum,
The Misunderstood,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Chrome,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
D'Angelo,
Tomorrow,
A Certain Ratio,
Kurtis Blow,
ABBA,
Average White Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pantaleimon,
Underground Resistance,
Aural Exciters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Circle Jerks,
Mantronix,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Khruangbin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Danielle Patucci,
Alice Coltrane,
Loose Ends,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fortunes,
Suburban Knight,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Angels of Light,
Blossom Toes,
Cecil Taylor,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Roxy Music,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roger Hodgson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
DJ Style,
Masters at Work,
Yellowson,
Stereo Dub,
Joensuu 1685,
Boz Scaggs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rufus Thomas,
Isaac Hayes,
Toni Rubio,
Excepter,
The Flesh Eaters,
Niagra,
Quantec,
MC5,
Eric B and Rakim,
Con Funk Shun,
Popol Vuh,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.