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 Costa Rica and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Eric Copeland to the funk 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
JFA,
Crime,
Minutemen,
Robert Görl,
Maleditus Sound,
The Monks,
Model 500,
Outsiders,
Bobby Byrd,
Public Image Ltd.,
Amon Düül,
Ultra Naté,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Fuzztones,
Black Moon,
Arthur Verocai,
Oneida,
Siglo XX,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Interpol,
Pantaleimon,
Fat Boys,
Marmalade,
Monks,
Cymande,
Jacob Miller,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Amazonics,
Quantec,
Procol Harum,
Malaria!,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
kango's stein massive,
Suburban Knight,
Ohio Players,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blake Baxter,
The Real Kids,
Au Pairs,
Aural Exciters,
Bob Dylan,
Robert Wyatt,
Symarip,
Joe Smooth,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Drexciya,
Whodini,
B.T. Express,
UT,
Rotary Connection,
Skriet,
Simply Red,
Soulsonic Force,
AZ,
Byron Stingily,
Tres Demented,
Pole,
The Saints,
Swans,
CMW,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.