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 Guyana and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Inner City to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
L. Decosne,
Qualms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Dirtbombs,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Human League,
Andrew Hill,
Crime,
Con Funk Shun,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Clear Light,
Pet Shop Boys,
Piero Umiliani,
Rosa Yemen,
Kool Moe Dee,
Suburban Knight,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rotary Connection,
AZ,
Surgeon,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scrapy,
Darondo,
Organ,
Stereo Dub,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cybotron,
Eurythmics,
Kevin Saunderson,
Blossom Toes,
The Stooges,
Shoche,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Count Five,
Public Image Ltd.,
June of 44,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Hasil Adkins,
Soulsonic Force,
Can,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Howard Jones,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Y Pants,
The Searchers,
Lungfish,
The Smoke,
Hot Snakes,
Wally Richardson,
Al Stewart,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Sonics,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Dark Day,
The Selecter,
The Golliwogs,
the Swans,
T. Rex,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.