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 Iraq and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Chris Corsano to the electroclash 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
Chrome,
Avey Tare,
Gil Scott Heron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Shoche,
Kas Product,
Yellowson,
Roxette,
Ossler,
Kerrie Biddell,
Camberwell Now,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Dead C,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bauhaus,
The Move,
Eric Copeland,
Nas,
Japan,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Liliput,
The Smoke,
Rakim,
Babytalk,
The Misunderstood,
Youth Brigade,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Flag,
AZ,
Section 25,
Parry Music,
Reagan Youth,
Pantytec,
Wings,
Byron Stingily,
Radio Birdman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mr. Review,
Masters at Work,
Rites of Spring,
The Buckinghams,
Tim Buckley,
Minny Pops,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sonny Sharrock,
Toni Rubio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fall,
Ohio Players,
Neu!,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Los Fastidios,
The Pretty Things,
Sex Pistols,
Swans,
Ronan,
the Sonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
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.