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 Congo and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the disco 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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Osbourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
B.T. Express,
Chris Corsano,
The Barracudas,
Khruangbin,
Ultra Naté,
Avey Tare,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fat Boys,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Evens,
Patti Smith,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bronski Beat,
Derrick May,
Pere Ubu,
Crime,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Walker Brothers,
The Modern Lovers,
Bill Wells,
The Saints,
Inner City,
Chrome,
These Immortal Souls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ronan,
Pulsallama,
Little Man,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Electric Prunes,
X-Ray Spex,
Delta 5,
Roy Ayers,
The Gories,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Graham Central Station,
The Pretty Things,
Saccharine Trust,
Bob Dylan,
Nirvana,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Bill Near,
10cc,
The Star Department,
Simply Red,
Pussy Galore,
The Dave Clark Five,
Loose Ends,
The Victims,
Glambeats Corp.,
Visage,
Silicon Teens,
Lou Christie,
Amon Düül II,
Drexciya,
Quadrant,
UT,
Anthony Braxton,
Ossler,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.