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 Switzerland and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Toronto.
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 spring reverb 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 Rakim to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Minny Pops. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Intrusion,
Sexual Harrassment,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gong,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Darondo,
Heaven 17,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
UT,
John Foxx,
Depeche Mode,
Rekid,
Jimmy McGriff,
Albert Ayler,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Trumans Water,
Sparks,
X-102,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Vladislav Delay,
Suicide,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Pretty Things,
Marc Almond,
The Kinks,
Basic Channel,
The Cure,
Ohio Players,
Soft Cell,
Tom Boy,
Bootsy Collins,
China Crisis,
Q and Not U,
DNA,
The United States of America,
Dual Sessions,
Alison Limerick,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Move,
Joy Division,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bill Wells,
Sixth Finger,
Theoretical Girls,
Minnie Riperton,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The New Christs,
Siglo XX,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pierre Henry,
Spoonie Gee,
The Gladiators,
Hasil Adkins,
Massinfluence,
Circle Jerks,
Mission of Burma,
John Coltrane,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.