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 Afghanistan and from London.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The Monochrome Set to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Thompson Twins,
Yellowson,
Danielle Patucci,
Roxette,
Livin' Joy,
Index,
Nas,
Hot Snakes,
The Searchers,
Eli Mardock,
The Moleskins,
The United States of America,
The Detroit Cobras,
Charles Mingus,
T.S.O.L.,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Vladislav Delay,
Peter and Kerry,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
John Lydon,
Agitation Free,
Pet Shop Boys,
Barry Ungar,
Massinfluence,
Das Ding,
Donny Hathaway,
The Music Machine,
Nico,
Sarah Menescal,
Marcia Griffiths,
Brand Nubian,
Sixth Finger,
Johnny Clarke,
Crispian St. Peters,
Tres Demented,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Malaria!,
The Doors,
Yusef Lateef,
Robert Wyatt,
Alice Coltrane,
Blancmange,
Vainqueur,
X-101,
Matthew Halsall,
The Fall,
Stereo Dub,
Flamin' Groovies,
Joy Division,
Laurel Aitken,
The Star Department,
The Slackers,
Josef K,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pulsallama,
cv313,
Crispy Ambulance,
Andrew Hill,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.