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 Congo and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Edmonton.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Throbbing Gristle to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
Tubeway Army,
Ohio Players,
The Kinks,
Pylon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Judy Mowatt,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cymande,
New York Dolls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Normal,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultimate Spinach,
Whodini,
Newcleus,
Motorama,
Pagans,
Hoover,
Scratch Acid,
Lucky Dragons,
Camberwell Now,
The Toasters,
Iggy Pop,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Tremeloes,
Gerry Rafferty,
New Age Steppers,
Minutemen,
Negative Approach,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crispy Ambulance,
Arab on Radar,
The Cure,
Procol Harum,
The Wake,
Eden Ahbez,
The Human League,
The Shadows of Knight,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bizarre Inc.,
Radiohead,
Fela Kuti,
Delta 5,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Henry Cow,
FM Einheit,
K-Klass,
The Five Americans,
H. Thieme,
Glenn Branca,
John Foxx,
Saccharine Trust,
The Cramps,
The Remains,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.