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 Solomon Islands and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Knickerbockers to the jazz 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
B.T. Express,
the Swans,
Scrapy,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Electric Prunes,
AZ,
Soft Cell,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Moby Grape,
Yusef Lateef,
Scion,
The Searchers,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Beasts of Bourbon,
PIL,
Loose Ends,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Evens,
The Red Krayola,
Sonny Sharrock,
Simply Red,
Porter Ricks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bob Dylan,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Moody Blues,
Amazonics,
Skriet,
Mandrill,
Traffic Nightmare,
Banda Bassotti,
Dave Gahan,
Harmonia,
Model 500,
Urselle,
The Techniques,
Livin' Joy,
Janne Schatter,
Piero Umiliani,
Lindisfarne,
Eric Copeland,
Marmalade,
The Music Machine,
Brass Construction,
The Litter,
Inner City,
Johnny Clarke,
Radiohead,
The Tremeloes,
Avey Tare,
Skarface,
Gang Green,
Josef K,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sam Rivers,
The Standells,
Jeru the Damaja,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.