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 Saudi Arabia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe 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 John Lydon to the rap 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Symarip,
Rotary Connection,
Byron Stingily,
Electric Prunes,
Eve St. Jones,
Derrick Morgan,
The Fall,
Althea and Donna,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Slits,
Suburban Knight,
Tears for Fears,
the Germs,
Neil Young,
Mission of Burma,
Monks,
Sugar Minott,
Nils Olav,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Angry Samoans,
Parry Music,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Cowsills,
Fat Boys,
These Immortal Souls,
Yaz,
Zapp,
Harmonia,
Minny Pops,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sonic Youth,
Intrusion,
Bobby Sherman,
World's Most,
Pere Ubu,
Leonard Cohen,
Moss Icon,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Index,
Jeff Lynne,
Goldenarms,
Boz Scaggs,
John Coltrane,
Ralphi Rosario,
One Last Wish,
KRS-One,
AZ,
Cybotron,
Pussy Galore,
Crash Course in Science,
Traffic Nightmare,
Soulsonic Force,
The Misunderstood,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Wally Richardson,
Warsaw,
The Black Dice,
The Cure,
Saccharine Trust,
Amon Düül,
Icehouse,
The Shadows of Knight,
Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic.
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.