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 Ghana and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bologna.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Siglo XX to the punk 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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Dave Gahan,
Chris & Cosey,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wolf Eyes,
Amon Düül,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Evens,
Tubeway Army,
Man Parrish,
Whodini,
Avey Tare,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mr. Review,
Ossler,
Darondo,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
X-101,
The Mojo Men,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bad Manners,
DNA,
The Vogues,
Massinfluence,
Angry Samoans,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Bananas,
The Index,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Leaves,
Jawbox,
Spandau Ballet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Skriet,
Rekid,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Move,
Aswad,
Excepter,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pussy Galore,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
MC5,
Gastr Del Sol,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Boz Scaggs,
John Coltrane,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Echospace,
Reagan Youth,
Agent Orange,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Davy DMX,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Michelle Simonal,
Warsaw,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.