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 Russia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Black Moon to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Sex Pistols,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Stiv Bators,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Moody Blues,
Sällskapet,
Lower 48,
Charles Mingus,
Marmalade,
Kayak,
the Association,
Faust,
Todd Terry,
Soft Cell,
R.M.O.,
Intrusion,
Deadbeat,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sun City Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bang On A Can,
Deepchord,
The Detroit Cobras,
La Düsseldorf,
Dual Sessions,
Bad Manners,
Pussy Galore,
Ultravox,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spoonie Gee,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Henry Cow,
Laurel Aitken,
Spandau Ballet,
Lalann,
The Sonics,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Absolute Body Control,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Black Dice,
Oblivians,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Last Poets,
Technova,
Sarah Menescal,
Television,
Rod Modell,
Idris Muhammad,
The Wake,
Boz Scaggs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Music Machine,
Jeff Mills,
Pharoah Sanders,
D'Angelo,
Alice Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
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.