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 South Africa and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Copenhagen.
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 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 Bill Near to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Beau Brummels,
Tomorrow,
Ultimate Spinach,
Curtis Mayfield,
Oblivians,
The Happenings,
The Mummies,
The Black Dice,
Swell Maps,
Mad Mike,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
John Lydon,
Fugazi,
John Coltrane,
Wasted Youth,
Josef K,
The Electric Prunes,
The Misunderstood,
Colin Newman,
Eli Mardock,
Clear Light,
Boz Scaggs,
E-Dancer,
Roy Ayers,
Aaron Thompson,
Icehouse,
Hot Snakes,
Lindisfarne,
The Detroit Cobras,
Amon Düül,
Brick,
Crash Course in Science,
Pussy Galore,
Juan Atkins,
Zero Boys,
Bluetip,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Franke,
Michelle Simonal,
Kaleidoscope,
Janne Schatter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Delta 5,
Sun City Girls,
Lakeside,
Rosa Yemen,
Sixth Finger,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Grey Daturas,
China Crisis,
The Fall,
H. Thieme,
Stiv Bators,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pantytec,
Danielle Patucci,
Das Ding,
Glambeats Corp.,
Archie Shepp,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.