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 Philippines and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 808 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 Bobby Womack to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Rites of Spring,
Henry Cow,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fuzztones,
Television,
Harmonia,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Dirtbombs,
Carl Craig,
Alphaville,
Das Ding,
Severed Heads,
Kayak,
Erasure,
Jacob Miller,
Robert Görl,
Jesper Dahlback,
Warsaw,
Fort Wilson Riot,
ABC,
Tim Buckley,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crooked Eye,
Scrapy,
Pantytec,
Masters at Work,
Darondo,
Minor Threat,
Black Sheep,
Nick Fraelich,
The Birthday Party,
Minny Pops,
Tropical Tobacco,
Danielle Patucci,
Rosa Yemen,
a-ha,
Bobby Womack,
La Düsseldorf,
The Residents,
the Association,
Metal Thangz,
Lindisfarne,
Joey Negro,
Motorama,
Von Mondo,
New Age Steppers,
Dark Day,
Dead Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
MDC,
Fat Boys,
Sun Ra,
The Smoke,
New Order,
Interpol,
Freddie Wadling,
Outsiders,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Boz Scaggs,
Faraquet,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.