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 Israel and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the techno 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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Beau Brummels record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Jandek,
Jawbox,
Cecil Taylor,
Grauzone,
the Bar-Kays,
Loose Ends,
Malaria!,
James White and The Blacks,
Jacques Brel,
The Knickerbockers,
Porter Ricks,
Fugazi,
Moby Grape,
Yazoo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lyres,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Joyce Sims,
Magma,
Angry Samoans,
Cluster,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crispy Ambulance,
Echospace,
L. Decosne,
X-102,
Bob Dylan,
The Mummies,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Pulsallama,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Simply Red,
Joe Finger,
The Gap Band,
Icehouse,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Charles Mingus,
The Leaves,
The American Breed,
PIL,
Jacob Miller,
ABBA,
the Human League,
The Selecter,
Pierre Henry,
Kurtis Blow,
the Association,
Johnny Clarke,
CMW,
The Star Department,
In Retrospect,
Eli Mardock,
E-Dancer,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun City Girls,
the Slits,
Pylon,
48th St. Collective,
Make Up,
Don Cherry,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.