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 Vanuatu and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Hot Snakes to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Banda Bassotti,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Smiths,
The Modern Lovers,
John Lydon,
Von Mondo,
Saccharine Trust,
The Blues Magoos,
Panda Bear,
Organ,
DJ Style,
John Cale,
The Gories,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gap Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cybotron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Glenn Branca,
Susan Cadogan,
Magazine,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Index,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Starr,
Wolf Eyes,
The American Breed,
Hot Snakes,
Aloha Tigers,
Pantytec,
Mark Hollis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Matthew Bourne,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dead Boys,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Schoolly D,
Henry Cow,
Camberwell Now,
the Soft Cell,
Rites of Spring,
Ornette Coleman,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Leaves,
The Golliwogs,
Rotary Connection,
Rod Modell,
Moby Grape,
Colin Newman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Moebius,
The Searchers,
The Fire Engines,
the Germs,
X-102,
Alton Ellis,
Rekid,
The Five Americans,
Pagans,
Infiniti,
Anakelly,
Kerri Chandler,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.