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 Malawi and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 kango's stein massive to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Scion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Trumans Water,
Mandrill,
The Golliwogs,
Nick Fraelich,
The Star Department,
Eddi Front,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Talk Talk,
Tomorrow,
Brick,
Peter and Kerry,
The Neon Judgement,
Das Ding,
Scientists,
R.M.O.,
Kaleidoscope,
The Grass Roots,
The Gap Band,
Sister Nancy,
The New Christs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Amon Düül,
Matthew Bourne,
The Busters,
Subhumans,
Maurizio,
Fat Boys,
Isaac Hayes,
Vainqueur,
The Human League,
The Slits,
Crispian St. Peters,
Flash Fearless,
Deepchord,
Brothers Johnson,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Marvin Gaye,
Pussy Galore,
The Trojans,
the Soft Cell,
Glenn Branca,
The Fire Engines,
Negative Approach,
Wally Richardson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kayak,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gang of Four,
Duran Duran,
Qualms,
Stetsasonic,
Babytalk,
Joe Smooth,
Interpol,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Yusef Lateef,
Iggy Pop,
Groovy Waters,
Thee Headcoats,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.