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 Kazakhstan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet 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 Malaria! to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Leaves,
Alton Ellis,
Stetsasonic,
Reagan Youth,
The Stooges,
These Immortal Souls,
Skriet,
Niagra,
Barclay James Harvest,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gerry Rafferty,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Searchers,
Subhumans,
T. Rex,
Aloha Tigers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hoover,
The United States of America,
Essential Logic,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Roxette,
Rosa Yemen,
Gong,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Amon Düül,
Make Up,
Tommy Roe,
The Electric Prunes,
DNA,
Marine Girls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sound Behaviour,
Derrick Morgan,
Barry Ungar,
Joe Finger,
Black Moon,
Roy Ayers,
Drexciya,
Glenn Branca,
Jeff Mills,
The Blackbyrds,
Bill Near,
Unwound,
Henry Cow,
H. Thieme,
the Bar-Kays,
The Residents,
Bush Tetras,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Slackers,
The Durutti Column,
Supertramp,
E-Dancer,
Electric Prunes,
Tres Demented,
Pylon,
U.S. Maple,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.