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 Afghanistan and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Happenings to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Schoolly D,
48th St. Collective,
Country Teasers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Hasil Adkins,
Mary Jane Girls,
David McCallum,
The Monochrome Set,
Marshall Jefferson,
Vladislav Delay,
B.T. Express,
Rod Modell,
Bill Near,
John Coltrane,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Whodini,
Reuben Wilson,
Neu!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Babytalk,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sandy B,
Brick,
Toni Rubio,
Soul Sonic Force,
One Last Wish,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Black Moon,
The Monks,
The Moleskins,
Reagan Youth,
John Holt,
Drive Like Jehu,
L. Decosne,
Mars,
Carl Craig,
Monolake,
Aswad,
Erasure,
Goldenarms,
The American Breed,
Bobby Womack,
Hot Snakes,
Sight & Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
X-Ray Spex,
The Electric Prunes,
Jandek,
Scan 7,
H. Thieme,
Lebanon Hanover,
Judy Mowatt,
Fat Boys,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aural Exciters,
X-102,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eddi Front,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.