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 Dominican Republic and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Supertramp to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Evens,
Moebius,
Throbbing Gristle,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Techniques,
Organ,
Spandau Ballet,
Patti Smith,
Minor Threat,
Tres Demented,
Cecil Taylor,
Ituana,
Fatback Band,
The Monks,
Radiohead,
Cameo,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Sherman,
The Cure,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pierre Henry,
Bronski Beat,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pussy Galore,
The Toasters,
China Crisis,
LL Cool J,
Robert Wyatt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Massinfluence,
The Doobie Brothers,
Smog,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Chris Corsano,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Section 25,
The Count Five,
Hoover,
cv313,
Eli Mardock,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Suicide,
Mo-Dettes,
Bad Manners,
Adolescents,
Tom Boy,
The Tremeloes,
the Germs,
Audionom,
Crooked Eye,
The Barracudas,
MC5,
Model 500,
Gang Starr,
Los Fastidios,
Brick,
Nils Olav,
Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.