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 Micronesia and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Young Marble Giants to the rap 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 OOIOO. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q and Not U record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Letta Mbulu,
Accadde A,
Khruangbin,
R.M.O.,
Q65,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dual Sessions,
Silicon Teens,
Moss Icon,
David Bowie,
Sandy B,
Electric Prunes,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Magazine,
Lungfish,
The Gories,
Alison Limerick,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultimate Spinach,
This Heat,
Ornette Coleman,
Agitation Free,
Can,
Isaac Hayes,
Angry Samoans,
Hot Snakes,
John Lydon,
The Cure,
Swans,
The Modern Lovers,
Derrick Morgan,
Amon Düül,
Patti Smith,
Janne Schatter,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Robert Görl,
Roxy Music,
Anthony Braxton,
The Music Machine,
The Martian,
Bush Tetras,
Glambeats Corp.,
Man Parrish,
Wasted Youth,
Rakim,
Al Stewart,
Ken Boothe,
The Young Rascals,
Television Personalities,
Swell Maps,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sight & Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Association,
E-Dancer,
Iggy Pop,
Pierre Henry,
DNA,
Bang On A Can,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.