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 Ukraine and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Tehran and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Anthony Braxton to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Wake,
Matthew Halsall,
Harry Pussy,
Rufus Thomas,
Jacques Brel,
The Angels of Light,
Iggy Pop,
Organ,
The Martian,
The Cowsills,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Main Source,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tropical Tobacco,
Basic Channel,
Man Eating Sloth,
Suicide,
Amon Düül II,
Scion,
the Normal,
New Age Steppers,
Shuggie Otis,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eurythmics,
Easy Going,
The Misunderstood,
Audionom,
Pulsallama,
Ornette Coleman,
Laurel Aitken,
Pere Ubu,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Real Kids,
The Toasters,
Faust,
The Sonics,
Funky Four + One,
Minutemen,
Al Stewart,
Deakin,
Todd Terry,
D'Angelo,
Lakeside,
John Lydon,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Desert Stars,
Severed Heads,
Soft Machine,
Guru Guru,
Boredoms,
Lyres,
Barbara Tucker,
Minnie Riperton,
Icehouse,
Nick Fraelich,
The Alarm Clocks,
Archie Shepp,
Metal Thangz,
The Fugs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Reuben Wilson,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.