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 Senegal and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 David Axelrod to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
CMW,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soulsonic Force,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bob Dylan,
Funky Four + One,
Blake Baxter,
Maurizio,
Pylon,
Panda Bear,
Bauhaus,
Silicon Teens,
Mr. Review,
Minor Threat,
Godley & Creme,
The Slits,
The Young Rascals,
Erasure,
MDC,
Lakeside,
The Fire Engines,
Black Bananas,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Frankie Knuckles,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Hasil Adkins,
Andrew Hill,
Todd Terry,
Crash Course in Science,
Eurythmics,
Henry Cow,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Fall,
The J.B.'s,
Depeche Mode,
Accadde A,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Average White Band,
Michelle Simonal,
Matthew Bourne,
Jawbox,
Motorama,
Aswad,
June Days,
Intrusion,
Aaron Thompson,
Hoover,
Anthony Braxton,
David Bowie,
The Gap Band,
Soft Cell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Section 25,
Isaac Hayes,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ornette Coleman,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fortunes,
The Velvet Underground,
Buzzcocks,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.