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 Cambodia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Monks to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sunsets and Hearts. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Names 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
The Music Machine,
Bill Wells,
Grey Daturas,
Freddie Wadling,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lindisfarne,
T.S.O.L.,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
KRS-One,
Cecil Taylor,
Severed Heads,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Blake Baxter,
John Lydon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ituana,
The Zeros,
Mad Mike,
The Fall,
New York Dolls,
The Shadows of Knight,
Urselle,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang Green,
Cybotron,
The Blues Magoos,
Dave Gahan,
John Coltrane,
Lalann,
The Fortunes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Knickerbockers,
The New Christs,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lalo Schifrin,
Thee Headcoats,
Interpol,
Albert Ayler,
John Foxx,
Skriet,
the Sonics,
Jandek,
Ornette Coleman,
Mars,
Maleditus Sound,
Wings,
Nirvana,
Moebius,
Joe Finger,
Au Pairs,
Boogie Down Productions,
Juan Atkins,
Adolescents,
Gong,
In Retrospect,
The Index,
Thompson Twins,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pagans,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.