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 Czech Republic and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
The Saints,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Chris Corsano,
The New Christs,
Absolute Body Control,
Scion,
Stereo Dub,
Faust,
Chris & Cosey,
Kaleidoscope,
Radio Birdman,
Angry Samoans,
Arthur Verocai,
Jeru the Damaja,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Desert Stars,
Moss Icon,
Godley & Creme,
The Litter,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wally Richardson,
Zero Boys,
The Vogues,
Bobby Womack,
Soulsonic Force,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
New York Dolls,
10cc,
Quantec,
Rekid,
Liliput,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Soft Cell,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sandy B,
the Normal,
X-101,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sällskapet,
The Modern Lovers,
Deepchord,
Little Man,
Letta Mbulu,
The Grass Roots,
Thompson Twins,
The Red Krayola,
Gang Gang Dance,
Soft Machine,
Tim Buckley,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Minor Threat,
Icehouse,
Robert Hood,
Visage,
Kenny Larkin,
JFA,
Derrick Morgan,
Althea and Donna,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.