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 Congo and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South 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 Patti Smith to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Oneida,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fortunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Los Fastidios,
Dave Gahan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Malaria!,
James White and The Blacks,
The Martian,
Lindisfarne,
DNA,
Spoonie Gee,
Subhumans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Can,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Fall,
The Music Machine,
Grey Daturas,
the Normal,
Soft Cell,
Carl Craig,
The Young Rascals,
Anakelly,
Rapeman,
Robert Görl,
The Smoke,
Echospace,
Mark Hollis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jerry's Kids,
Section 25,
New Age Steppers,
World's Most,
John Foxx,
Cheater Slicks,
Sound Behaviour,
Wire,
MC5,
Avey Tare,
Black Flag,
kango's stein massive,
Chris & Cosey,
The Offenders,
Lower 48,
Cluster,
Patti Smith,
T. Rex,
The Red Krayola,
Al Stewart,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Raincoats,
Isaac Hayes,
Goldenarms,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.