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 Papua New Guinea and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 güiro 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 L. Decosne to the electroclash 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Susan Cadogan,
Yellowson,
Urselle,
The Walker Brothers,
Lyres,
Fear,
Sugar Minott,
Colin Newman,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jesper Dahlback,
Marc Almond,
The Smiths,
Flamin' Groovies,
Man Eating Sloth,
Anthony Braxton,
Todd Rundgren,
The Golliwogs,
Terry Callier,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Martian,
a-ha,
New Age Steppers,
Loose Ends,
Black Moon,
Ponytail,
Brass Construction,
Suburban Knight,
The Gladiators,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Average White Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
PIL,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wolf Eyes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Sheep,
The New Christs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Japan,
Spandau Ballet,
Public Enemy,
Camouflage,
The Invisible,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fat Boys,
Crispian St. Peters,
Quantec,
DJ Style,
Harry Pussy,
Lalann,
Amon Düül II,
The Buckinghams,
the Normal,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Grey Daturas,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Saints,
Gang of Four,
Niagra,
The Real Kids,
Glenn Branca,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.