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 Djibouti and from Delhi.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Icehouse 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Colin Newman,
ABC,
Lakeside,
Matthew Bourne,
The Buckinghams,
Amon Düül,
Heaven 17,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Birthday Party,
Ohio Players,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scrapy,
Peter and Kerry,
Peter & Gordon,
Y Pants,
Rotary Connection,
Tres Demented,
T. Rex,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
China Crisis,
the Swans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Magma,
Animal Collective,
Laurel Aitken,
The Toasters,
Gang of Four,
DJ Sneak,
Mandrill,
Bluetip,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gories,
Faraquet,
Hardrive,
Michelle Simonal,
Ronnie Foster,
Wings,
Royal Trux,
Amazonics,
The Fire Engines,
Sällskapet,
Bauhaus,
Rosa Yemen,
Swans,
Sister Nancy,
Scott Walker,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Black Dice,
Masters at Work,
Susan Cadogan,
Alphaville,
PIL,
Reagan Youth,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Darondo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pulsallama,
Cameo,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.