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 Egypt and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Residents to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Last Poets,
MC5,
Subhumans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Terrestrial Tones,
Roxy Music,
The Trojans,
Juan Atkins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bob Dylan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Thompson Twins,
The Monks,
John Lydon,
Brand Nubian,
Mad Mike,
the Bar-Kays,
Zero Boys,
Little Man,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ossler,
Erasure,
D'Angelo,
The Human League,
Khruangbin,
Fear,
Nik Kershaw,
the Swans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Minor Threat,
The Fortunes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eve St. Jones,
Pet Shop Boys,
Magazine,
Pharoah Sanders,
Shuggie Otis,
Altered Images,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Adolescents,
Josef K,
Graham Central Station,
The Beau Brummels,
Roy Ayers,
Peter and Kerry,
Flamin' Groovies,
Brothers Johnson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Normal,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lucky Dragons,
FM Einheit,
Scott Walker,
The Dead C,
Boz Scaggs,
MDC,
Gang of Four,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.