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 Mauritius and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
R.M.O.,
Isaac Hayes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lalann,
Barry Ungar,
Bauhaus,
Black Flag,
The Count Five,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Reed,
The Mojo Men,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Neu!,
Soft Cell,
Lightning Bolt,
The Music Machine,
Sun City Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Howard Jones,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mr. Review,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
JFA,
Nirvana,
Popol Vuh,
Newcleus,
Con Funk Shun,
Henry Cow,
Soulsonic Force,
Youth Brigade,
Cluster,
Livin' Joy,
The Busters,
Fatback Band,
Chris Corsano,
Moss Icon,
Shoche,
Harmonia,
Robert Wyatt,
Mad Mike,
Faraquet,
Fugazi,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Absolute Body Control,
Brick,
John Holt,
A Certain Ratio,
The Move,
Nico,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cymande,
The Walker Brothers,
the Normal,
Pulsallama,
Ultravox,
Gastr Del Sol,
E-Dancer,
The Doobie Brothers,
Roxy Music,
Eurythmics,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.