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 Angola and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 United States of America to the crunk 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
The Skatalites,
Thompson Twins,
Bootsy Collins,
The Remains,
Bill Wells,
The Move,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bad Manners,
Circle Jerks,
Henry Cow,
Spoonie Gee,
John Coltrane,
Arab on Radar,
Kayak,
Scientists,
Ornette Coleman,
Radio Birdman,
The Fortunes,
the Bar-Kays,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Surgeon,
Adolescents,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Raincoats,
Rotary Connection,
The Buckinghams,
L. Decosne,
Wolf Eyes,
Stereo Dub,
F. McDonald,
KRS-One,
Glenn Branca,
Gregory Isaacs,
Brothers Johnson,
the Association,
CMW,
Ultra Naté,
Massinfluence,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hasil Adkins,
Unwound,
Heaven 17,
Harry Pussy,
Roxy Music,
David McCallum,
UT,
Aural Exciters,
Scratch Acid,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kevin Saunderson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Schoolly D,
Kaleidoscope,
Fugazi,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brand Nubian,
Minor Threat,
Maurizio,
Rakim,
OOIOO,
Youth Brigade,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.