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 Ecuador and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terrestrial Tones to the jazz 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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Mad Mike tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ornette Coleman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joensuu 1685,
Freddie Wadling,
EPMD,
The Seeds,
Yaz,
The J.B.'s,
Pantytec,
Don Cherry,
48th St. Collective,
Sarah Menescal,
Half Japanese,
Barrington Levy,
The Cramps,
Scott Walker,
The Standells,
Black Pus,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül II,
New Age Steppers,
Sparks,
The Wake,
Jesper Dahlback,
Barry Ungar,
Hot Snakes,
Patti Smith,
Wire,
The Mojo Men,
Thee Headcoats,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Dark Day,
Warsaw,
Junior Murvin,
Reagan Youth,
Black Bananas,
Negative Approach,
The Kinks,
Cal Tjader,
Fela Kuti,
Delon & Dalcan,
Angry Samoans,
Prince Buster,
These Immortal Souls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobby Sherman,
Surgeon,
Au Pairs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sällskapet,
Gichy Dan,
Sandy B,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Heaven 17,
Wally Richardson,
Hoover,
Dennis Brown,
Stiv Bators,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Intrusion,
Glenn Branca,
Yusef Lateef,
Pylon,
Judy Mowatt,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.