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 Ecuador and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Juan Atkins to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delta 5,
X-102,
Camouflage,
Lebanon Hanover,
Talk Talk,
Sam Rivers,
John Foxx,
Deepchord,
The Kinks,
Gang of Four,
Sonny Sharrock,
Thompson Twins,
Pylon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Alice Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Zeros,
Roxy Music,
Ituana,
The Invisible,
the Fania All-Stars,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cowsills,
Desert Stars,
Zero Boys,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Yellowson,
the Soft Cell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Charles Mingus,
Procol Harum,
a-ha,
The Gun Club,
Radiopuhelimet,
Byron Stingily,
Ice-T,
Todd Rundgren,
Ossler,
Jawbox,
Gabor Szabo,
Bob Dylan,
The Dead C,
The Victims,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Nick Fraelich,
Tomorrow,
Rites of Spring,
Amon Düül II,
Half Japanese,
Pussy Galore,
Tears for Fears,
Saccharine Trust,
Slave,
Sun Ra,
Harmonia,
Ponytail,
CMW,
The Standells,
Minny Pops,
Oblivians,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.