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 Afghanistan and from Delhi.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Rites of Spring,
June of 44,
EPMD,
Main Source,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Barbara Tucker,
Slave,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tim Buckley,
U.S. Maple,
Roxy Music,
Depeche Mode,
The Remains,
Pere Ubu,
Panda Bear,
Black Moon,
Susan Cadogan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mantronix,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jeff Lynne,
Absolute Body Control,
Banda Bassotti,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cluster,
Brothers Johnson,
Can,
Arcadia,
The Monochrome Set,
The Gun Club,
Malaria!,
Roger Hodgson,
Quando Quango,
L. Decosne,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tom Boy,
Graham Central Station,
The Durutti Column,
Roy Ayers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Agitation Free,
Technova,
Carl Craig,
The Selecter,
Alton Ellis,
Ludus,
Scientists,
Marvin Gaye,
The Associates,
Oneida,
Kayak,
These Immortal Souls,
The Red Krayola,
Godley & Creme,
Livin' Joy,
The Moody Blues,
The Birthday Party,
Dark Day,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.