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 Bahrain and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Fire Engines to the jazz 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gerry Rafferty record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bronski Beat,
The Cure,
Pierre Henry,
Radio Birdman,
Andrew Hill,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Visage,
Rufus Thomas,
Ludus,
Country Teasers,
Skarface,
Guru Guru,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Byrd,
Mo-Dettes,
Sugar Minott,
F. McDonald,
Pantytec,
The Move,
Saccharine Trust,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Swell Maps,
Hot Snakes,
the Normal,
Zapp,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crispy Ambulance,
Porter Ricks,
Swans,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Fat Boys,
Jerry's Kids,
KRS-One,
The Five Americans,
The Vogues,
Basic Channel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David Bowie,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Agitation Free,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Smog,
Adolescents,
June Days,
The Fortunes,
ABBA,
Delta 5,
In Retrospect,
Lindisfarne,
The Residents,
FM Einheit,
The Seeds,
Goldenarms,
Moby Grape,
Toni Rubio,
Blancmange,
Sister Nancy,
Joe Finger,
Dawn Penn,
Jacques Brel,
Thee Headcoats,
The Neon Judgement,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.