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 Panama and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sexual Harrassment to the electroclash 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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
The Tremeloes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Con Funk Shun,
Inner City,
Monolake,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Tim Buckley,
The Dirtbombs,
Arab on Radar,
Mission of Burma,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gong,
JFA,
Don Cherry,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cluster,
Black Bananas,
Peter and Kerry,
Newcleus,
Monks,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Human League,
Ornette Coleman,
Can,
Banda Bassotti,
Neil Young,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeff Mills,
Ronnie Foster,
The Mojo Men,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jesper Dahlback,
Popol Vuh,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Coltrane,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Guru Guru,
Sun Ra,
The Blackbyrds,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Outsiders,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Move,
Skarface,
T. Rex,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pere Ubu,
Icehouse,
Peter & Gordon,
Heaven 17,
Radiohead,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.