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 Madagascar and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Sight & Sound to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Crooked Eye,
Roger Hodgson,
Nik Kershaw,
Gichy Dan,
Supertramp,
Drexciya,
Silicon Teens,
Duran Duran,
Metal Thangz,
Jacques Brel,
the Association,
Kaleidoscope,
Sun City Girls,
The Standells,
Ronan,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lyres,
The Velvet Underground,
Oblivians,
Lindisfarne,
Fugazi,
Michelle Simonal,
Lee Hazlewood,
EPMD,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marcia Griffiths,
DJ Style,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Suicide,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hashim,
Moby Grape,
Little Man,
D'Angelo,
Yusef Lateef,
The Real Kids,
Zero Boys,
MDC,
Sex Pistols,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Star Department,
Index,
Japan,
the Germs,
Letta Mbulu,
Graham Central Station,
Wolf Eyes,
Schoolly D,
Lucky Dragons,
The Human League,
Talk Talk,
Niagra,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Zeros,
The Moody Blues,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
8 Eyed Spy,
David McCallum,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.