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 Albania and from Jakarta.
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 Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Spoonie Gee to the jazz 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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Roger Hodgson,
U.S. Maple,
Swell Maps,
Alphaville,
One Last Wish,
Depeche Mode,
Jawbox,
The Move,
Lalann,
Main Source,
Angry Samoans,
Surgeon,
The Gun Club,
Joensuu 1685,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
In Retrospect,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ponytail,
The Raincoats,
Deepchord,
The J.B.'s,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bill Wells,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eric Copeland,
Quadrant,
Bush Tetras,
Mo-Dettes,
Mission of Burma,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Moss Icon,
Pierre Henry,
China Crisis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Motorama,
The Mighty Diamonds,
X-102,
The New Christs,
Harry Pussy,
Mary Jane Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bluetip,
Wire,
Jerry's Kids,
Magazine,
New York Dolls,
Tom Boy,
Rufus Thomas,
James White and The Blacks,
Prince Buster,
Jacques Brel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
These Immortal Souls,
Yaz,
B.T. Express,
Tommy Roe,
Gang Green,
Malaria!,
Chris & Cosey,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.