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 Brunei and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Erasure to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Pharoah Sanders,
Desert Stars,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Con Funk Shun,
Fela Kuti,
Visage,
Prince Buster,
Todd Rundgren,
Niagra,
Mission of Burma,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jerry's Kids,
The Durutti Column,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Yazoo,
Icehouse,
Rakim,
Unwound,
Fad Gadget,
Lucky Dragons,
Carl Craig,
The Dead C,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pierre Henry,
Black Bananas,
The Sound,
Kenny Larkin,
48th St. Collective,
Graham Central Station,
Johnny Clarke,
Connie Case,
Janne Schatter,
Slave,
Hot Snakes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül,
Lungfish,
Magazine,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kool Moe Dee,
Arab on Radar,
Lightning Bolt,
James White and The Blacks,
The Leaves,
Faraquet,
Mark Hollis,
One Last Wish,
John Coltrane,
The Fugs,
These Immortal Souls,
Agitation Free,
Marc Almond,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Archie Shepp,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.