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 Dominican Republic and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro 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 Gong to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cal Tjader,
Kenny Larkin,
Slick Rick,
Dead Boys,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
June Days,
Darondo,
Hasil Adkins,
Echospace,
Robert Wyatt,
Vladislav Delay,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultimate Spinach,
Scott Walker,
Arab on Radar,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Gladiators,
Brass Construction,
X-102,
Technova,
Boz Scaggs,
Byron Stingily,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Fire Engines,
Minor Threat,
Banda Bassotti,
Nirvana,
Black Sheep,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Monks,
Zapp,
Monolake,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Last Poets,
Groovy Waters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pulsallama,
Kool Moe Dee,
Funkadelic,
Cymande,
Jacques Brel,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
MC5,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang Starr,
Eddi Front,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Swans,
Pantytec,
Dorothy Ashby,
Grauzone,
Gabor Szabo,
Tommy Roe,
Tom Boy,
Andrew Hill,
The Sonics,
Black Flag,
Sonic Youth,
Matthew Bourne,
Sex Pistols,
The Wake,
A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio, A Certain Ratio.
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.