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 Bahrain and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Slits to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
John Coltrane,
Joy Division,
Mars,
Althea and Donna,
Dark Day,
The Cure,
David Bowie,
Lalann,
CMW,
The Invisible,
The Sound,
Eric B and Rakim,
Derrick Morgan,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eddi Front,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Chris Corsano,
The Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Q65,
Sparks,
Magazine,
Ken Boothe,
Kool Moe Dee,
Funky Four + One,
U.S. Maple,
Echospace,
The Red Krayola,
Cymande,
Ronnie Foster,
Yusef Lateef,
Sister Nancy,
The Standells,
The Walker Brothers,
Harpers Bizarre,
48th St. Collective,
The Fuzztones,
Soul II Soul,
Matthew Bourne,
Intrusion,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bobby Sherman,
Porter Ricks,
Boz Scaggs,
Procol Harum,
Malaria!,
Terrestrial Tones,
Donald Byrd,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Stiv Bators,
Oneida,
Delta 5,
Symarip,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mark Hollis,
Stereo Dub,
Reagan Youth,
Scion,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.