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 Ukraine and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Robert Palmer 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 Roxette to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warren Ellis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Tres Demented,
DJ Style,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sister Nancy,
Black Bananas,
Lou Reed,
The Residents,
The Sonics,
Bad Manners,
K-Klass,
Kerri Chandler,
Nico,
ABC,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cameo,
The Slits,
The Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Surgeon,
the Association,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Neon Judgement,
Lightning Bolt,
In Retrospect,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Subhumans,
Crooked Eye,
Nick Fraelich,
Johnny Osbourne,
Suburban Knight,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Chris Corsano,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Visage,
T. Rex,
Harry Pussy,
The Move,
The Birthday Party,
The Monochrome Set,
Idris Muhammad,
Magma,
Todd Terry,
E-Dancer,
Tomorrow,
Basic Channel,
Talk Talk,
Patti Smith,
DNA,
June of 44,
Blake Baxter,
Desert Stars,
Kas Product,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kaleidoscope,
The Mojo Men,
The Trojans,
The Techniques,
Charles Mingus,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.