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 Iceland and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Holger Czukay 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 Slackers to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Foxx. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
kango's stein massive,
Khruangbin,
The Mummies,
Delta 5,
Scratch Acid,
World's Most,
Leonard Cohen,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gabor Szabo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Happenings,
Blossom Toes,
Trumans Water,
Cecil Taylor,
Scrapy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Don Cherry,
Todd Rundgren,
Thompson Twins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wolf Eyes,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crime,
Barrington Levy,
Ten City,
Ultra Naté,
Faust,
Eden Ahbez,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Camberwell Now,
Lalann,
Sun Ra,
Danielle Patucci,
Barbara Tucker,
48th St. Collective,
Spoonie Gee,
Ludus,
Dawn Penn,
Neu!,
Derrick May,
The Saints,
Tomorrow,
Bobby Sherman,
The Leaves,
Unrelated Segments,
Eric Dolphy,
New Order,
Gerry Rafferty,
Grauzone,
Section 25,
Wally Richardson,
Bobby Womack,
Metal Thangz,
The Walker Brothers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Kenny Larkin,
Sight & Sound,
The Move,
Quadrant,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Black Dice,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.