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 Italy and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
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 Second Layer to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
The Kinks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Suicide,
Joey Negro,
Janne Schatter,
The Human League,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Residents,
Maurizio,
Al Stewart,
Nas,
Flipper,
Ronan,
B.T. Express,
The Doors,
The Gories,
Eric B and Rakim,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cramps,
Lyres,
Scion,
Public Enemy,
KRS-One,
Rosa Yemen,
The Remains,
X-102,
Silicon Teens,
Anakelly,
Procol Harum,
Gang of Four,
Black Moon,
Duran Duran,
Mo-Dettes,
Tim Buckley,
Blake Baxter,
Stockholm Monsters,
Prince Buster,
The Smoke,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Brand Nubian,
Minor Threat,
Kenny Larkin,
Fatback Band,
Danielle Patucci,
Blancmange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amon Düül,
Ice-T,
David Bowie,
Dennis Brown,
Big Daddy Kane,
Jacob Miller,
The Red Krayola,
The Dead C,
Moby Grape,
Yellowson,
June Days,
Eric Copeland,
Surgeon,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.