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 Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Mo-Dettes to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Gabor Szabo,
The J.B.'s,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Knickerbockers,
Cybotron,
The Electric Prunes,
The Smiths,
June of 44,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marc Almond,
Danielle Patucci,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Martian,
the Slits,
OOIOO,
Amon Düül II,
The Move,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Smog,
The Angels of Light,
The Cure,
Tom Boy,
Alphaville,
Sonic Youth,
Graham Central Station,
Curtis Mayfield,
Young Marble Giants,
Fela Kuti,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Susan Cadogan,
Bluetip,
Jacques Brel,
the Bar-Kays,
The Trojans,
DJ Style,
T. Rex,
Masters at Work,
Boogie Down Productions,
Roy Ayers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Patti Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joensuu 1685,
Dave Gahan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Animal Collective,
Brass Construction,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Freddie Wadling,
Thee Headcoats,
The Black Dice,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
K-Klass,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Sonics,
Monks,
Au Pairs,
Matthew Halsall,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
World's Most,
Faust,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.