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 Tunisia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
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 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 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the rock 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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Smiths,
Spoonie Gee,
Radio Birdman,
The Doors,
The Gories,
Joensuu 1685,
Roger Hodgson,
Aural Exciters,
The Pop Group,
Angry Samoans,
The Star Department,
Wally Richardson,
Arcadia,
June of 44,
Chris & Cosey,
The Tremeloes,
the Swans,
Supertramp,
Gong,
Qualms,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux,
The Grass Roots,
Aloha Tigers,
La Düsseldorf,
Fear,
The Gun Club,
Flamin' Groovies,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stiv Bators,
Pulsallama,
The Electric Prunes,
Swans,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Womack,
Scientists,
Rekid,
The American Breed,
Tropical Tobacco,
Faraquet,
Mo-Dettes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Stereo Dub,
Ohio Players,
Danielle Patucci,
Jacob Miller,
Sixth Finger,
Lalann,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fela Kuti,
Matthew Bourne,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blake Baxter,
The Vogues,
Radiohead,
Oneida,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Count Five,
Livin' Joy,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.