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 Antigua 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Television to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gabor Szabo,
Fear,
Rhythm & Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sparks,
New Order,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dirtbombs,
David McCallum,
China Crisis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jimmy McGriff,
Quadrant,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rosa Yemen,
Neil Young,
David Bowie,
Livin' Joy,
Hot Snakes,
The Cowsills,
The Black Dice,
Mission of Burma,
Deepchord,
Khruangbin,
the Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Nas,
X-102,
Fugazi,
Index,
Henry Cow,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Prince Buster,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Television,
The Raincoats,
Saccharine Trust,
The Index,
Cabaret Voltaire,
KRS-One,
Y Pants,
Adolescents,
The Invisible,
Lindisfarne,
Joey Negro,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Flesh Eaters,
Faraquet,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Amon Düül II,
Dennis Brown,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Barracudas,
The Fortunes,
Derrick May,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.