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 Rwanda and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Scott Walker to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mummies. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Monks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Zero Boys,
Depeche Mode,
Alice Coltrane,
Icehouse,
The Busters,
Ossler,
The Dirtbombs,
Make Up,
Patti Smith,
Pussy Galore,
Minutemen,
Bauhaus,
Animal Collective,
Matthew Bourne,
Bill Wells,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Pretty Things,
Johnny Osbourne,
Quando Quango,
Flipper,
Nico,
Graham Central Station,
Mary Jane Girls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Divine Comedy,
Soulsonic Force,
Deadbeat,
Marc Almond,
Lyres,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Aaron Thompson,
Unrelated Segments,
Liliput,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Roy Ayers,
John Foxx,
Index,
The Monks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Zapp,
Half Japanese,
EPMD,
Barbara Tucker,
Ice-T,
Rotary Connection,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Albert Ayler,
Soul Sonic Force,
kango's stein massive,
Todd Rundgren,
Marmalade,
Cecil Taylor,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brothers Johnson,
The American Breed,
Warren Ellis,
The Gap Band,
The Happenings,
Hasil Adkins,
Ken Boothe,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.