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 Mali and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Skaos,
Faraquet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Angry Samoans,
Ludus,
Wire,
The Sound,
The Dave Clark Five,
Q and Not U,
Wally Richardson,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Quadrant,
Ultravox,
Alphaville,
Suburban Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eli Mardock,
The Divine Comedy,
Television Personalities,
Byron Stingily,
Masters at Work,
Davy DMX,
Altered Images,
Aloha Tigers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Sonics,
Erykah Badu,
In Retrospect,
Young Marble Giants,
Pantaleimon,
Sun Ra,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Stetsasonic,
Barry Ungar,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gang of Four,
Basic Channel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Amazonics,
Dawn Penn,
Godley & Creme,
Icehouse,
Slick Rick,
Unwound,
Mission of Burma,
The Star Department,
8 Eyed Spy,
Isaac Hayes,
Tommy Roe,
Grey Daturas,
Eric Dolphy,
Make Up,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Buzzcocks,
Little Man,
Iggy Pop,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jacob Miller,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
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.