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 Lithuania and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bobby Sherman to the electroclash 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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Stereo Dub,
Marc Almond,
Chris Corsano,
Maleditus Sound,
JFA,
Kaleidoscope,
Depeche Mode,
John Holt,
F. McDonald,
Bill Wells,
Royal Trux,
Moebius,
Soft Machine,
Animal Collective,
Eli Mardock,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dual Sessions,
The Doors,
Peter and Kerry,
New York Dolls,
Boogie Down Productions,
Visage,
The Five Americans,
The Tremeloes,
Can,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jerry's Kids,
Masters at Work,
The Monks,
The Moleskins,
Ituana,
Isaac Hayes,
Dead Boys,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gang Green,
Marmalade,
Mark Hollis,
Babytalk,
The Kinks,
X-101,
Joe Smooth,
The Buckinghams,
The Gories,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wire,
Second Layer,
Eric Dolphy,
Bauhaus,
The Neon Judgement,
Absolute Body Control,
These Immortal Souls,
The Knickerbockers,
Wally Richardson,
Infiniti,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Dave Clark Five,
The J.B.'s,
Lucky Dragons,
Donny Hathaway,
Cluster,
MDC,
Tim Buckley,
the Swans,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.