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 Korea North and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 Calgary and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 guitar 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
The Birthday Party,
the Sonics,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Terry Callier,
Pylon,
Minutemen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jawbox,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Freddie Wadling,
LL Cool J,
F. McDonald,
Brick,
Lalo Schifrin,
Danielle Patucci,
John Coltrane,
Absolute Body Control,
Joyce Sims,
Brothers Johnson,
Wolf Eyes,
Banda Bassotti,
Sun City Girls,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barrington Levy,
Shoche,
The Shadows of Knight,
Marine Girls,
Neu!,
Agitation Free,
Das Ding,
Icehouse,
Bronski Beat,
Susan Cadogan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ituana,
Skaos,
Jandek,
Ken Boothe,
Darondo,
Trumans Water,
Silicon Teens,
The Vogues,
Japan,
T.S.O.L.,
Pantaleimon,
Pantytec,
Subhumans,
The Moody Blues,
Little Man,
Crime,
La Düsseldorf,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bootsy Collins,
Make Up,
The Durutti Column,
Amon Düül,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.