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 Netherlands and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 The Birthday Party to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Gap Band. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants 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?
Wolf Eyes,
The Smiths,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Zapp,
Goldenarms,
Mars,
Magazine,
Scrapy,
Buzzcocks,
The Litter,
Khruangbin,
Terry Callier,
Arab on Radar,
Radio Birdman,
The Motions,
Gerry Rafferty,
Faraquet,
The Moleskins,
The Seeds,
Roger Hodgson,
Don Cherry,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cure,
Colin Newman,
Michelle Simonal,
Tubeway Army,
Donny Hathaway,
Man Eating Sloth,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kayak,
Hoover,
Section 25,
Jawbox,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roxette,
Eden Ahbez,
Rod Modell,
Radiohead,
Bobby Womack,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Residents,
Cecil Taylor,
The Young Rascals,
The Red Krayola,
L. Decosne,
Ken Boothe,
Absolute Body Control,
Cal Tjader,
Isaac Hayes,
Lakeside,
Black Pus,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Star Department,
Aural Exciters,
Pylon,
Blancmange,
The Grass Roots,
The Move,
Stetsasonic,
Leonard Cohen,
Kurtis Blow,
Johnny Clarke,
The Toasters,
Pulsallama,
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.