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 Liberia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Jerry Gold Smith to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ponytail,
T.S.O.L.,
Moebius,
Y Pants,
Dennis Brown,
Sex Pistols,
The Star Department,
Man Parrish,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eric Dolphy,
Gang Starr,
Jerry's Kids,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crime,
Roy Ayers,
Popol Vuh,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Derrick May,
Sister Nancy,
Ossler,
Skarface,
Isaac Hayes,
Shuggie Otis,
Flipper,
Buzzcocks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Drive Like Jehu,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Faraquet,
The Selecter,
Lalo Schifrin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marvin Gaye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Quadrant,
Neu!,
Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Q65,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Porter Ricks,
Amon Düül,
Country Teasers,
June of 44,
H. Thieme,
Index,
The Last Poets,
Aural Exciters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blancmange,
Desert Stars,
Easy Going,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Radiohead,
Todd Terry,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.