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 france and from london. but i was there. i was there in 1968. i was there at the first can show in cologne. 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 tokyo and berlin. i'm losing my edge to the art-school brooklynites in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered eighties. but i'm losing my edge. i'm losing my edge
but i was there. i was there. but i was there. 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 1974 at the first suicide practices in a loft in new york city. i was working on the organ sounds with much patience. i was there when captain beefheart started up his first band. i told him