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 Cameroon and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cowsills 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Bang On A Can,
Boredoms,
The Monks,
B.T. Express,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Birthday Party,
E-Dancer,
Kevin Saunderson,
Trumans Water,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Inner City,
Magma,
Dual Sessions,
The Blues Magoos,
Arcadia,
Oneida,
The Index,
Fatback Band,
Intrusion,
Throbbing Gristle,
Buzzcocks,
The Doors,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Spoonie Gee,
Lower 48,
The Fall,
Sixth Finger,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Average White Band,
Scan 7,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Monks,
Kaleidoscope,
The Real Kids,
Au Pairs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Freddie Wadling,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Thompson Twins,
Eric Copeland,
Bill Near,
Mission of Burma,
Carl Craig,
The Young Rascals,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rites of Spring,
Deakin,
Television Personalities,
Archie Shepp,
The Human League,
The Residents,
Blossom Toes,
Minutemen,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.