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 Costa Rica and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 The Remains to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Freddie Wadling,
the Swans,
MDC,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Minutemen,
John Coltrane,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Franke,
Half Japanese,
48th St. Collective,
Cluster,
Index,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Brick,
Hot Snakes,
Cheater Slicks,
Joy Division,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Neon Judgement,
Moebius,
Glambeats Corp.,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Flipper,
The Gap Band,
Amon Düül II,
Depeche Mode,
Ultravox,
The Blues Magoos,
Scientists,
Visage,
Howard Jones,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Saccharine Trust,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mark Hollis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gories,
Slave,
PIL,
Make Up,
AZ,
Tres Demented,
B.T. Express,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Amon Düül,
Hoover,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Mission of Burma,
Public Image Ltd.,
Hasil Adkins,
Henry Cow,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Connie Case,
Barrington Levy,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Remains,
Maleditus Sound,
Japan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Monks,
The Cowsills,
The Human League, The Human League, The Human League, The Human League.
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.