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 Macedonia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1984 at the first Arcadia 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 The Smiths to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skriet,
Zero Boys,
Infiniti,
Minutemen,
Adolescents,
Anthony Braxton,
Suicide,
T. Rex,
Matthew Halsall,
Pussy Galore,
Stockholm Monsters,
Aural Exciters,
Rosa Yemen,
Y Pants,
Howard Jones,
Thompson Twins,
The Misunderstood,
New York Dolls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Zapp,
Porter Ricks,
The Modern Lovers,
Royal Trux,
Minor Threat,
Au Pairs,
The Associates,
Stereo Dub,
Excepter,
Cameo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jeff Mills,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roxette,
X-Ray Spex,
Nils Olav,
The Victims,
Desert Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ituana,
Crash Course in Science,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swans,
The Smiths,
Tom Boy,
Grandmaster Flash,
Grey Daturas,
The Velvet Underground,
Niagra,
James White and The Blacks,
Pulsallama,
The Cramps,
Jacob Miller,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerri Chandler,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brass Construction,
Pylon,
The Gap Band,
The Toasters,
Junior Murvin,
Jacques Brel,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.