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 South Sudan and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Malaria! to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bobby Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Dennis Brown,
Magma,
Scrapy,
Ponytail,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gang of Four,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Simply Red,
Toni Rubio,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Joe Smooth,
Urselle,
Metal Thangz,
Piero Umiliani,
H. Thieme,
Oneida,
The Stooges,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
Banda Bassotti,
the Soft Cell,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rufus Thomas,
Japan,
Nirvana,
The Searchers,
Sight & Sound,
Cymande,
The Cowsills,
The Standells,
Lindisfarne,
Rod Modell,
Deadbeat,
Tom Boy,
Fear,
Alice Coltrane,
Amon Düül,
Tears for Fears,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rapeman,
Rotary Connection,
Iggy Pop,
Nas,
The Selecter,
Warsaw,
Nico,
Scion,
Warren Ellis,
Soulsonic Force,
Adolescents,
Grey Daturas,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Franke,
Joe Finger,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Los Fastidios,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Mummies,
John Cale,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.