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 Norway and from Mexico City.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Michael McDonald 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalo Schifrin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
T.S.O.L.,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Can,
kango's stein massive,
Laurel Aitken,
The Vogues,
Yusef Lateef,
Pylon,
Leonard Cohen,
Faraquet,
The Knickerbockers,
Harry Pussy,
Fad Gadget,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Los Fastidios,
Lebanon Hanover,
Darondo,
Hoover,
Guru Guru,
The Skatalites,
Silicon Teens,
Fat Boys,
Parry Music,
Gerry Rafferty,
Johnny Osbourne,
Infiniti,
Subhumans,
Charles Mingus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tom Boy,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Doors,
Lucky Dragons,
Severed Heads,
Popol Vuh,
The Durutti Column,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Metal Thangz,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fatback Band,
Fela Kuti,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Procol Harum,
Interpol,
Eve St. Jones,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Livin' Joy,
Tommy Roe,
Television,
June Days,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Ten City,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc., Bizarre Inc..
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.