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 Malawi and from Shanghai.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Chrome to the dance 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Joy Division,
OOIOO,
Symarip,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Moby Grape,
The Busters,
the Slits,
Von Mondo,
Connie Case,
Lower 48,
The Red Krayola,
Jacques Brel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Evens,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Alton Ellis,
Rapeman,
Ronan,
10cc,
Jeru the Damaja,
Terrestrial Tones,
Oblivians,
Saccharine Trust,
Sun Ra,
Toni Rubio,
These Immortal Souls,
Scott Walker,
Babytalk,
Mr. Review,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Trojans,
The Cramps,
The Wake,
PIL,
Roy Ayers,
Grauzone,
Anakelly,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Stooges,
Dark Day,
the Soft Cell,
Cecil Taylor,
Bush Tetras,
June Days,
David Axelrod,
Hoover,
The Barracudas,
A Certain Ratio,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gang Gang Dance,
DNA,
June of 44,
Swans,
The Slits,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Junior Murvin,
Graham Central Station,
The Fall,
Nirvana,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.