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 Marshall Islands and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Halifax.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Howard Jones to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Moby Grape,
Parry Music,
Khruangbin,
Althea and Donna,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Electric Prunes,
Radiopuhelimet,
Grauzone,
China Crisis,
Nico,
Gong,
Au Pairs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Visage,
John Cale,
Agent Orange,
Tres Demented,
Robert Görl,
Bad Manners,
EPMD,
The Mummies,
Qualms,
Steve Hackett,
Mad Mike,
Patti Smith,
Roy Ayers,
Rapeman,
MC5,
the Fania All-Stars,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
X-101,
Saccharine Trust,
R.M.O.,
Nils Olav,
Archie Shepp,
Juan Atkins,
Infiniti,
Interpol,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cecil Taylor,
The Music Machine,
Lindisfarne,
Stereo Dub,
Skriet,
X-Ray Spex,
Chrome,
the Sonics,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Janne Schatter,
Lungfish,
The Detroit Cobras,
Man Parrish,
Porter Ricks,
Ohio Players,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Erykah Badu,
Shoche,
Joe Finger,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.