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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 48th St. Collective to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kenny Larkin 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Main Source,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Rekid,
Aural Exciters,
Arthur Verocai,
Todd Rundgren,
Lou Christie,
Barry Ungar,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Robert Wyatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Todd Terry,
The Fugs,
Stiv Bators,
Theoretical Girls,
Bill Near,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Martian,
Circle Jerks,
Sun City Girls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Beau Brummels,
Pole,
Archie Shepp,
Ornette Coleman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crash Course in Science,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Motions,
Buzzcocks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mr. Review,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Soft Cell,
The Durutti Column,
Sex Pistols,
Eli Mardock,
Spandau Ballet,
Gong,
The United States of America,
Cluster,
The Trojans,
Monks,
Maleditus Sound,
Q and Not U,
Danielle Patucci,
Erykah Badu,
Tim Buckley,
Bronski Beat,
Judy Mowatt,
Electric Prunes,
Gang of Four,
The Doors,
X-102,
Arab on Radar,
Black Sheep,
Marmalade,
Roxy Music,
Blancmange,
Johnny Osbourne,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.