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 Nauru and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in 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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Byron Stingily to the electroclash 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Bluetip,
Robert Hood,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ronnie Foster,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kaleidoscope,
Jacob Miller,
Depeche Mode,
Aaron Thompson,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
World's Most,
Dawn Penn,
Skaos,
Buzzcocks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Technova,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Litter,
Cymande,
Cecil Taylor,
The Kinks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pole,
Duran Duran,
Inner City,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kenny Larkin,
Brothers Johnson,
Sandy B,
Absolute Body Control,
The Music Machine,
The Misunderstood,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Excepter,
Eve St. Jones,
Rites of Spring,
Lindisfarne,
Nik Kershaw,
The Red Krayola,
Slave,
Derrick May,
Arcadia,
EPMD,
DNA,
Joy Division,
The Residents,
Masters at Work,
Subhumans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobby Sherman,
Deadbeat,
the Human League,
D'Angelo,
Make Up,
Ten City,
Smog,
Yaz,
The Durutti Column,
Barrington Levy,
Crispian St. Peters,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.