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 Albania and from Calgary.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Moebius to the punk 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Bowie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fear,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Drexciya,
Deakin,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Archie Shepp,
Alison Limerick,
Scion,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Desert Stars,
The Vogues,
Black Pus,
PIL,
Deepchord,
Camberwell Now,
Terry Callier,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ultravox,
Eli Mardock,
Liliput,
The J.B.'s,
The Seeds,
The Invisible,
The Cure,
The Slits,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sandy B,
Reagan Youth,
Joyce Sims,
CMW,
Buzzcocks,
Swell Maps,
The Dave Clark Five,
Oneida,
June of 44,
Moss Icon,
Pussy Galore,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Amon Düül,
Maurizio,
Marc Almond,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Boredoms,
Bobby Womack,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Banda Bassotti,
Tubeway Army,
Fela Kuti,
L. Decosne,
June Days,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Popol Vuh,
Hot Snakes,
Yusef Lateef,
Gang Green,
Yazoo,
the Association,
Soft Cell,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.