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 Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Pussy Galore to the dance 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
The Walker Brothers,
X-Ray Spex,
Scratch Acid,
Y Pants,
The Monks,
Bauhaus,
Gichy Dan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Saints,
Aaron Thompson,
The Gladiators,
Los Fastidios,
Brothers Johnson,
Bill Wells,
Brand Nubian,
Rotary Connection,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lalann,
Underground Resistance,
Judy Mowatt,
The Standells,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Urselle,
Surgeon,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobby Sherman,
Derrick Morgan,
Charles Mingus,
the Bar-Kays,
Kaleidoscope,
The American Breed,
Chris Corsano,
Anthony Braxton,
Ohio Players,
Frankie Knuckles,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Monks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Metal Thangz,
Second Layer,
Cecil Taylor,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
This Heat,
La Düsseldorf,
Smog,
The Barracudas,
Niagra,
Kevin Saunderson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wally Richardson,
T. Rex,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.