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 Montenegro and from London.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
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 Quando Quango to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All Connie Case tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
The Martian,
Piero Umiliani,
UT,
Scrapy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bluetip,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Funkadelic,
Henry Cow,
Pere Ubu,
Monolake,
Amon Düül II,
Crispy Ambulance,
Icehouse,
Jacques Brel,
Janne Schatter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Moebius,
Gang of Four,
Silicon Teens,
Harry Pussy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dead Boys,
Japan,
Au Pairs,
The Trojans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Public Image Ltd.,
Yellowson,
Crispian St. Peters,
Chrome,
The Misunderstood,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Oblivians,
Faust,
Jeff Mills,
Jerry Gold Smith,
China Crisis,
Jimmy McGriff,
Grauzone,
Derrick May,
Reagan Youth,
The Walker Brothers,
U.S. Maple,
Ponytail,
Junior Murvin,
Danielle Patucci,
Essential Logic,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pantaleimon,
The Birthday Party,
Lyres,
Aloha Tigers,
Deakin,
These Immortal Souls,
Soft Cell,
Prince Buster,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ice-T,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.