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 Armenia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin 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 Harry Pussy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joey Negro,
Erasure,
Model 500,
The Gun Club,
Yellowson,
Howard Jones,
Sister Nancy,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pharoah Sanders,
Robert Wyatt,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rekid,
Arthur Verocai,
Bush Tetras,
Sun Ra,
Johnny Osbourne,
Suburban Knight,
The Sisters of Mercy,
La Düsseldorf,
the Sonics,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crispy Ambulance,
Reagan Youth,
Trumans Water,
Fluxion,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Organ,
Panda Bear,
Grey Daturas,
Severed Heads,
Lightning Bolt,
Skaos,
Thompson Twins,
Vainqueur,
Magazine,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lyres,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Tomorrow,
Outsiders,
Pussy Galore,
Kayak,
Can,
Gang of Four,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Real Kids,
Los Fastidios,
The Divine Comedy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Axelrod,
Alton Ellis,
Don Cherry,
Audionom,
New York Dolls,
Dennis Brown,
K-Klass,
the Human League,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.