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 Maldives and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Heaven 17 to the grunge 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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bang On A Can,
Public Enemy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Toni Rubio,
Jimmy McGriff,
Agent Orange,
Judy Mowatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Don Cherry,
Morten Harket,
Barrington Levy,
Brothers Johnson,
Danielle Patucci,
John Coltrane,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Arthur Verocai,
Ice-T,
Boredoms,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Reuben Wilson,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Invisible,
Motorama,
Suicide,
Yusef Lateef,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dead Boys,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minutemen,
Deadbeat,
Eden Ahbez,
The Motions,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pole,
Kaleidoscope,
Black Flag,
Lalann,
Crime,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cecil Taylor,
Camouflage,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Beau Brummels,
Connie Case,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Echospace,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Yaz,
Brass Construction,
Robert Hood,
Accadde A,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Oneida,
Harmonia,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fortunes,
the Swans,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.