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 Syria and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar 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 Harry Pussy to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Reagan Youth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Nirvana,
The Blackbyrds,
Pantaleimon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Iggy Pop,
Pussy Galore,
Kas Product,
Lindisfarne,
Ultravox,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Agitation Free,
Mr. Review,
Oblivians,
Sparks,
the Germs,
B.T. Express,
Tropical Tobacco,
Negative Approach,
Roxette,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Kayak,
Scrapy,
Qualms,
The Velvet Underground,
Rekid,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tom Boy,
Saccharine Trust,
Isaac Hayes,
Susan Cadogan,
The Saints,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pylon,
Ituana,
Model 500,
Laurel Aitken,
Gang of Four,
Maleditus Sound,
Erykah Badu,
The Sonics,
Tears for Fears,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Animal Collective,
Brothers Johnson,
Khruangbin,
The Slits,
Masters at Work,
Mission of Burma,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Zeros,
LL Cool J,
Aural Exciters,
Wally Richardson,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Dead Boys,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.