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 Liechtenstein and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 mellotron 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 The Sonics to the disco 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Funky Four + One,
the Human League,
The Count Five,
DJ Sneak,
The Residents,
The Dirtbombs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Moby Grape,
Donny Hathaway,
Monolake,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Happenings,
Gang Starr,
Sixth Finger,
Minnie Riperton,
Peter and Kerry,
Dead Boys,
Sister Nancy,
Piero Umiliani,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
This Heat,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jacob Miller,
Girls At Our Best!,
Soulsonic Force,
Moebius,
Todd Terry,
Theoretical Girls,
Marine Girls,
Dual Sessions,
Cymande,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Franke,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Erykah Badu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Livin' Joy,
Scott Walker,
T. Rex,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Sonics,
Sam Rivers,
Rufus Thomas,
Gong,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Gories,
Crash Course in Science,
Byron Stingily,
the Germs,
Masters at Work,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Angry Samoans,
The Fuzztones,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fugs,
Bad Manners,
Quando Quango,
Sun Ra,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.