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 Bhutan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 oboe 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 Agitation Free to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Adolescents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Man Parrish,
Roxy Music,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sarah Menescal,
Black Bananas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scan 7,
Interpol,
Spoonie Gee,
Scion,
The Gap Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joe Smooth,
Kenny Larkin,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare,
Yellowson,
Rod Modell,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Half Japanese,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ken Boothe,
Peter and Kerry,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Ultravox,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Wells,
A Certain Ratio,
The Index,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roger Hodgson,
Gastr Del Sol,
DJ Style,
Eden Ahbez,
Joey Negro,
Niagra,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jeff Mills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hoover,
The Birthday Party,
Kurtis Blow,
Tommy Roe,
The Doors,
Cameo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Siglo XX,
Newcleus,
The Gun Club,
The Durutti Column,
Josef K,
Swell Maps,
Erykah Badu,
Second Layer,
Hot Snakes,
Fear,
Jacques Brel,
Suicide,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.