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 Azerbaijan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Fugazi to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
The Blues Magoos,
The Blackbyrds,
the Sonics,
Swell Maps,
Pierre Henry,
Mark Hollis,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dirtbombs,
Susan Cadogan,
The Gap Band,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Organ,
Godley & Creme,
Maleditus Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lungfish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantaleimon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Glenn Branca,
Ponytail,
Dark Day,
Lakeside,
Symarip,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Pop Group,
David Bowie,
John Coltrane,
Motorama,
Anthony Braxton,
Warren Ellis,
Sandy B,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Aural Exciters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Alarm Clocks,
Marc Almond,
The Velvet Underground,
Joyce Sims,
Negative Approach,
Junior Murvin,
Gabor Szabo,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eric Copeland,
Basic Channel,
Supertramp,
The Trojans,
Excepter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ornette Coleman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
R.M.O.,
Tears for Fears,
Sound Behaviour,
The Electric Prunes,
Amazonics,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.