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 Sudan and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lee Hazlewood to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
Wally Richardson,
Sällskapet,
B.T. Express,
Alton Ellis,
The Smiths,
Sight & Sound,
Cymande,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Monks,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ten City,
Flash Fearless,
Spoonie Gee,
Mary Jane Girls,
Magazine,
The Electric Prunes,
Babytalk,
the Human League,
Bauhaus,
Mo-Dettes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The New Christs,
Lou Reed,
Easy Going,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mars,
Hashim,
Harry Pussy,
Fela Kuti,
Eve St. Jones,
Q65,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cluster,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scott Walker,
Stetsasonic,
Depeche Mode,
Blossom Toes,
Hardrive,
Junior Murvin,
Excepter,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers,
The United States of America,
Wings,
The American Breed,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Happenings,
Infiniti,
Icehouse,
Joey Negro,
Sex Pistols,
The Grass Roots,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rufus Thomas,
Mad Mike,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alison Limerick,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.