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 Dominica and from Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 sitar 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 Boogie Down Productions to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Invisible. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Massinfluence,
Thee Headcoats,
Gabor Szabo,
Alison Limerick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
T.S.O.L.,
The Tremeloes,
Easy Going,
Kenny Larkin,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Eve St. Jones,
the Swans,
Mission of Burma,
The Golliwogs,
The Velvet Underground,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fuzztones,
The United States of America,
The Five Americans,
The Moody Blues,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Matthew Halsall,
Absolute Body Control,
Ituana,
Wasted Youth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Litter,
Throbbing Gristle,
Buzzcocks,
DJ Sneak,
The Detroit Cobras,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Scratch Acid,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Joe Smooth,
Visage,
John Holt,
Delon & Dalcan,
K-Klass,
Royal Trux,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pere Ubu,
Sex Pistols,
Jeff Lynne,
Eddi Front,
Zapp,
Procol Harum,
Jacques Brel,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Simply Red,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Beau Brummels,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
June of 44,
Wolf Eyes,
Yazoo,
CMW,
Terry Callier,
The Invisible,
Sister Nancy,
The Gladiators,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.