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 Grenada and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Gichy Dan to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
the Normal,
Model 500,
Scott Walker,
Matthew Bourne,
Nico,
Barbara Tucker,
The Black Dice,
a-ha,
Technova,
Black Pus,
Khruangbin,
Slave,
Gang of Four,
Flash Fearless,
The Neon Judgement,
Swans,
Bad Manners,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Alarm Clocks,
Connie Case,
48th St. Collective,
The Flesh Eaters,
Second Layer,
Malaria!,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Misunderstood,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sonics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Anthony Braxton,
Make Up,
Lee Hazlewood,
Patti Smith,
D'Angelo,
Section 25,
Mantronix,
Tropical Tobacco,
The J.B.'s,
Talk Talk,
Quando Quango,
Sarah Menescal,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Beau Brummels,
Urselle,
Dual Sessions,
OOIOO,
Young Marble Giants,
Barrington Levy,
Camouflage,
Bill Wells,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kerrie Biddell,
Average White Band,
Buzzcocks,
The Last Poets,
MDC,
Davy DMX,
Sixth Finger,
Franke,
New York Dolls,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.