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 New Zealand and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Shanghai.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Erykah Badu to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
John Lydon,
World's Most,
Donny Hathaway,
Steve Hackett,
Jerry's Kids,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Juan Atkins,
China Crisis,
Wire,
Chrome,
Big Daddy Kane,
Supertramp,
Section 25,
Eden Ahbez,
Parry Music,
Siglo XX,
Eric Copeland,
Sound Behaviour,
Angry Samoans,
Brass Construction,
Duran Duran,
Sonic Youth,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Monks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Crime,
Das Ding,
Colin Newman,
Crooked Eye,
The Cure,
Frankie Knuckles,
F. McDonald,
The Alarm Clocks,
Schoolly D,
Ituana,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dorothy Ashby,
Rosa Yemen,
Young Marble Giants,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Happenings,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arab on Radar,
JFA,
Pantytec,
Hardrive,
Warren Ellis,
Guru Guru,
Leonard Cohen,
Kerri Chandler,
New Age Steppers,
Von Mondo,
Brothers Johnson,
Bauhaus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Zeros,
The Raincoats,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pulsallama,
Ultravox,
Flipper,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.