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 Australia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Qualms to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water 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?
Wally Richardson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
H. Thieme,
Pulsallama,
Charles Mingus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scrapy,
Bang On A Can,
Kerri Chandler,
Jeru the Damaja,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Little Man,
The Barracudas,
Cluster,
Blancmange,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Barrington Levy,
Soul II Soul,
Quando Quango,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Gladiators,
Alphaville,
Sixth Finger,
Robert Görl,
Frankie Knuckles,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Banda Bassotti,
Tomorrow,
Joensuu 1685,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Black Flag,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Beau Brummels,
Toni Rubio,
Roxette,
New York Dolls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Kinks,
Desert Stars,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Au Pairs,
Khruangbin,
Joy Division,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Names,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ponytail,
Jacques Brel,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Crime,
Alice Coltrane,
Drexciya,
Don Cherry,
Aural Exciters,
Erasure,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boz Scaggs,
Cheater Slicks,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.