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 Haiti and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Alphaville to the techno 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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Masters at Work,
Qualms,
T.S.O.L.,
Gerry Rafferty,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Bar-Kays,
Dead Boys,
Lyres,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Bang On A Can,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fortunes,
Shuggie Otis,
Moby Grape,
The Saints,
The Fire Engines,
Cameo,
Idris Muhammad,
Ornette Coleman,
New Order,
The Gap Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Goldenarms,
L. Decosne,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Durutti Column,
Lou Reed,
Cheater Slicks,
Dawn Penn,
Soft Machine,
Scott Walker,
Man Parrish,
Public Enemy,
Alphaville,
The J.B.'s,
Reagan Youth,
Excepter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kurtis Blow,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ice-T,
The Beau Brummels,
David Bowie,
Gastr Del Sol,
ABC,
Flash Fearless,
Glenn Branca,
Nas,
Byron Stingily,
Liliput,
Matthew Bourne,
Sun City Girls,
Cecil Taylor,
Pulsallama,
Joy Division,
These Immortal Souls,
Easy Going,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.