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 Andorra and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Lightning Bolt to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Camberwell Now,
Warsaw,
Ponytail,
Rosa Yemen,
KRS-One,
Man Eating Sloth,
Letta Mbulu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Arab on Radar,
Silicon Teens,
T.S.O.L.,
Dead Boys,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry,
Ultimate Spinach,
The J.B.'s,
Rod Modell,
Duran Duran,
Delon & Dalcan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobby Sherman,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Barrington Levy,
Lyres,
The Smiths,
Prince Buster,
Suicide,
Don Cherry,
Shoche,
Pylon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fad Gadget,
Jerry's Kids,
Negative Approach,
PIL,
Cecil Taylor,
Joy Division,
The Invisible,
The Gun Club,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Basic Channel,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Litter,
Chris & Cosey,
Heaven 17,
Black Moon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Harry Pussy,
Camouflage,
Wally Richardson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Roy Ayers,
Nils Olav,
Marvin Gaye,
AZ,
Soft Cell,
Colin Newman,
The Beau Brummels,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.