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 Oman and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Deadbeat,
The Last Poets,
Aloha Tigers,
Leonard Cohen,
JFA,
Matthew Halsall,
Jeff Mills,
Fatback Band,
The Grass Roots,
Liliput,
The Standells,
David Axelrod,
The Saints,
Sight & Sound,
Maurizio,
The Trojans,
Das Ding,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Prince Buster,
The Sonics,
Rosa Yemen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bauhaus,
Massinfluence,
K-Klass,
Wings,
Skaos,
The Martian,
Hot Snakes,
Deakin,
Soul II Soul,
Lyres,
Grey Daturas,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Divine Comedy,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Cramps,
Jeff Lynne,
Essential Logic,
The Cowsills,
Terrestrial Tones,
Brass Construction,
Organ,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Slits,
Barry Ungar,
Negative Approach,
Sixth Finger,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Johnny Clarke,
Charles Mingus,
Fad Gadget,
Morten Harket,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The J.B.'s,
Soft Machine,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.