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 Nauru and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Red Lorry Yellow Lorry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sonny Sharrock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Eric Copeland,
DNA,
The American Breed,
Idris Muhammad,
Eli Mardock,
Theoretical Girls,
Roxy Music,
Young Marble Giants,
Alice Coltrane,
The Busters,
Bob Dylan,
the Bar-Kays,
MC5,
Panda Bear,
Pole,
Funky Four + One,
Arab on Radar,
Con Funk Shun,
Television Personalities,
Liliput,
Judy Mowatt,
Porter Ricks,
Stereo Dub,
These Immortal Souls,
Roxette,
Outsiders,
Alphaville,
Patti Smith,
David Axelrod,
Bobby Sherman,
Delta 5,
ABC,
Anthony Braxton,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Y Pants,
Malaria!,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Procol Harum,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Slackers,
Suburban Knight,
The Litter,
Desert Stars,
Sam Rivers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Drexciya,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
the Swans,
Easy Going,
Electric Prunes,
Gang Green,
June Days,
Piero Umiliani,
Henry Cow,
La Düsseldorf,
Soft Machine,
Scion,
Jawbox,
Soft Cell,
Buzzcocks,
The Black Dice,
Ultra Naté,
Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo, Yazoo.
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.