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 Slovenia and from New York.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kerri Chandler. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
The Smiths,
Lungfish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Rod Modell,
Suburban Knight,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Black Dice,
Magazine,
Agent Orange,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cal Tjader,
The J.B.'s,
Hoover,
Audionom,
Fat Boys,
Neu!,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Real Kids,
Gregory Isaacs,
Marine Girls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sight & Sound,
The Slits,
Arab on Radar,
Blossom Toes,
The Gun Club,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jeff Mills,
Freddie Wadling,
This Heat,
David Axelrod,
The Skatalites,
Trumans Water,
Eric Copeland,
Black Bananas,
Ken Boothe,
New York Dolls,
Ornette Coleman,
Yazoo,
Malaria!,
Frankie Knuckles,
Faraquet,
Gong,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Cowsills,
PIL,
Spandau Ballet,
Shoche,
The Dave Clark Five,
Joensuu 1685,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nirvana,
The Pop Group,
Jeff Lynne,
John Foxx,
Sex Pistols,
The Mojo Men,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.