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 Benin 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
China Crisis,
Unwound,
Agent Orange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sandy B,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dave Gahan,
The Fortunes,
Isaac Hayes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ornette Coleman,
The Shadows of Knight,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Mummies,
Lungfish,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Stereo Dub,
The Doobie Brothers,
Con Funk Shun,
Slick Rick,
Bush Tetras,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Cowsills,
Masters at Work,
Kaleidoscope,
Susan Cadogan,
Metal Thangz,
Patti Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
Faust,
Lou Reed,
Organ,
Girls At Our Best!,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Association,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
David Bowie,
Silicon Teens,
Black Pus,
Sam Rivers,
Q65,
Chris & Cosey,
Sister Nancy,
Make Up,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fat Boys,
10cc,
Blancmange,
Scott Walker,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Doors,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Juan Atkins,
Derrick May,
Electric Prunes,
Rotary Connection,
Qualms,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Laurel Aitken,
The Gories,
KRS-One,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.