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 Eritrea and from Sao Paulo.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Stetsasonic to the disco 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 The Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minutemen 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Eric Dolphy,
Junior Murvin,
Cheater Slicks,
Mars,
Alton Ellis,
Loose Ends,
Cameo,
Wire,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Archie Shepp,
Kool Moe Dee,
Metal Thangz,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Frankie Knuckles,
Essential Logic,
Au Pairs,
Anthony Braxton,
Amon Düül,
Todd Rundgren,
AZ,
Underground Resistance,
The Remains,
Niagra,
Y Pants,
Nils Olav,
Jawbox,
X-101,
Oneida,
Don Cherry,
Parry Music,
Flipper,
Funky Four + One,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wally Richardson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mark Hollis,
Magazine,
Kayak,
Accadde A,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare,
The Moleskins,
The Victims,
La Düsseldorf,
Trumans Water,
Alice Coltrane,
Aswad,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Livin' Joy,
The Cure,
The Monks,
Porter Ricks,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Swans,
The Velvet Underground,
The Zeros,
Reuben Wilson,
Terry Callier,
Public Image Ltd.,
Stiv Bators,
Crooked Eye,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.