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 Moldova and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 David Bowie 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Mo-Dettes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
The Standells,
Kurtis Blow,
Crash Course in Science,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Average White Band,
H. Thieme,
F. McDonald,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gabor Szabo,
Soul II Soul,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Shoche,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Glenn Branca,
Desert Stars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Evens,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The J.B.'s,
Second Layer,
Mo-Dettes,
Aswad,
Roxy Music,
Wire,
T. Rex,
Donny Hathaway,
Maurizio,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Freddie Wadling,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jeff Mills,
Q and Not U,
Mr. Review,
The Zeros,
The Monks,
The Moleskins,
Nik Kershaw,
Make Up,
Johnny Osbourne,
Accadde A,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Dead C,
Grauzone,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Aaron Thompson,
Roxette,
a-ha,
Ornette Coleman,
Black Moon,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Talk Talk,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scientists,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Banda Bassotti,
Lou Christie,
Joensuu 1685,
Reuben Wilson,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.