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 Marshall Islands and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 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 the Slits to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faraquet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
The Music Machine,
Television,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Blues Magoos,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Flag,
DJ Sneak,
Technova,
The Mummies,
Ossler,
Amazonics,
Simply Red,
Funky Four + One,
Patti Smith,
Qualms,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Loose Ends,
Girls At Our Best!,
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Gang Dance,
PIL,
The Black Dice,
Symarip,
Connie Case,
Siglo XX,
Marmalade,
Wasted Youth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lungfish,
John Foxx,
Quantec,
Fatback Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Sight & Sound,
cv313,
OOIOO,
Masters at Work,
Cal Tjader,
Swell Maps,
Eddi Front,
the Slits,
Moby Grape,
Brand Nubian,
Agitation Free,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dawn Penn,
The Associates,
The Dave Clark Five,
Josef K,
In Retrospect,
Section 25,
Flash Fearless,
Lakeside,
Quadrant,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Seeds,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sister Nancy,
Yellowson,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.