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 Tonga and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Scrapy to the funk 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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
the Swans,
The New Christs,
Toni Rubio,
X-102,
Joy Division,
Joe Smooth,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nirvana,
Monks,
The Leaves,
Black Moon,
Bobby Byrd,
Sight & Sound,
Tommy Roe,
Todd Terry,
Index,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Massinfluence,
Soft Cell,
Brothers Johnson,
Crispian St. Peters,
ABC,
Angry Samoans,
Gong,
Hoover,
Moebius,
Barry Ungar,
Nick Fraelich,
The Techniques,
Zapp,
Grauzone,
Crispy Ambulance,
UT,
Robert Hood,
Clear Light,
Chrome,
Crooked Eye,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Sheep,
Soft Machine,
Loose Ends,
Youth Brigade,
Bad Manners,
Scrapy,
The Remains,
DJ Sneak,
Television Personalities,
Depeche Mode,
Y Pants,
Amazonics,
Scan 7,
Lee Hazlewood,
Boredoms,
The Fugs,
Pussy Galore,
Skaos,
Saccharine Trust,
Minor Threat,
The Moleskins,
Jerry's Kids,
Ken Boothe,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.