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 Djibouti and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Vogues to the rap 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Rosa Yemen,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Slits,
Sexual Harrassment,
Banda Bassotti,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Grey Daturas,
Aaron Thompson,
Animal Collective,
Minny Pops,
This Heat,
The Remains,
the Human League,
Surgeon,
The Gap Band,
Suburban Knight,
Jandek,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra,
One Last Wish,
Hot Snakes,
Mad Mike,
F. McDonald,
Black Moon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Rakim,
La Düsseldorf,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Hood,
Nas,
Sandy B,
Nick Fraelich,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Malaria!,
Mary Jane Girls,
Suicide,
PIL,
Adolescents,
The Neon Judgement,
Wally Richardson,
R.M.O.,
Fort Wilson Riot,
cv313,
Funkadelic,
June of 44,
The Smiths,
Smog,
The Fugs,
Bill Near,
Whodini,
Eden Ahbez,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Royal Trux,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Scratch Acid,
Accadde A,
The Standells,
Piero Umiliani,
Eric B and Rakim,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.