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 Kiribati and from Woodstock.
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 Paris and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nation of Ulysses to the dance 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Fad Gadget tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Swell Maps,
Robert Wyatt,
the Association,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Vainqueur,
The Knickerbockers,
Freddie Wadling,
Glenn Branca,
The Happenings,
Gerry Rafferty,
Yaz,
Oneida,
Iggy Pop,
PIL,
Kevin Saunderson,
David McCallum,
Tears for Fears,
Byron Stingily,
Rekid,
Ludus,
the Slits,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Echospace,
Alphaville,
Malaria!,
Sixth Finger,
The New Christs,
Eric Dolphy,
Nick Fraelich,
The Leaves,
Kerri Chandler,
Dead Boys,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
CMW,
Pantaleimon,
B.T. Express,
Stiv Bators,
Pussy Galore,
Thompson Twins,
Outsiders,
Severed Heads,
Cymande,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Selecter,
Warsaw,
Clear Light,
Gastr Del Sol,
Icehouse,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pantytec,
Vladislav Delay,
Negative Approach,
Eve St. Jones,
Ultra Naté,
Peter & Gordon,
Dual Sessions,
Throbbing Gristle,
Howard Jones,
Half Japanese,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.