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 Poland and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Scott Walker to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
Negative Approach,
Zapp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Residents,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ossler,
Easy Going,
B.T. Express,
The Fall,
Lalann,
Ludus,
The Saints,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Byrd,
Suicide,
Masters at Work,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Tremeloes,
Erasure,
Chris Corsano,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bob Dylan,
Hardrive,
Sällskapet,
Adolescents,
Todd Terry,
Lucky Dragons,
Motorama,
Interpol,
The Red Krayola,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lebanon Hanover,
Letta Mbulu,
Tom Boy,
Japan,
The Techniques,
Royal Trux,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Radio Birdman,
Neu!,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Happenings,
Suburban Knight,
Harry Pussy,
Sun City Girls,
Guru Guru,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Music Machine,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wolf Eyes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Gladiators,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nils Olav,
Arcadia,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Pus,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.