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 Singapore and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Remains to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
Duran Duran,
Intrusion,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
PIL,
The Angels of Light,
MC5,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Electric Prunes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sonic Youth,
The Victims,
Toni Rubio,
David McCallum,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick May,
Nils Olav,
Main Source,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jerry Gold Smith,
New Age Steppers,
Joe Smooth,
Funkadelic,
Black Pus,
The Birthday Party,
Livin' Joy,
Hoover,
Flash Fearless,
Swell Maps,
Alphaville,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sister Nancy,
The Litter,
Bill Wells,
Robert Wyatt,
Little Man,
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
China Crisis,
Model 500,
Y Pants,
Rekid,
Pantaleimon,
Subhumans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scrapy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
New York Dolls,
Pylon,
Aloha Tigers,
The Raincoats,
Aaron Thompson,
The Blues Magoos,
Parry Music,
Jacob Miller,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.