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 Uzbekistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 Minor Threat to the grime 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gastr Del Sol,
Erykah Badu,
Television Personalities,
Soft Cell,
Joey Negro,
Boredoms,
Procol Harum,
Basic Channel,
the Fania All-Stars,
Desert Stars,
Sound Behaviour,
Tropical Tobacco,
Matthew Bourne,
Warren Ellis,
Mark Hollis,
The Grass Roots,
Harmonia,
ABC,
Rakim,
Jandek,
Iggy Pop,
Babytalk,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Eric Copeland,
The Sonics,
the Sonics,
Reuben Wilson,
Flash Fearless,
DNA,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crispian St. Peters,
LL Cool J,
The Divine Comedy,
Intrusion,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jerry's Kids,
Ultimate Spinach,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Skriet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Kinks,
Sam Rivers,
Con Funk Shun,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Warsaw,
Nik Kershaw,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gabor Szabo,
Sex Pistols,
The Offenders,
Sun Ra,
Lou Reed,
The Velvet Underground,
Wire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Flesh Eaters,
Altered Images,
Bang On A Can,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.