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 Namibia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Stiv Bators to the grunge 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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
The Litter,
Infiniti,
Ornette Coleman,
The Misunderstood,
Franke,
Tears for Fears,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Patti Smith,
Vainqueur,
Prince Buster,
Bauhaus,
Michelle Simonal,
Rapeman,
In Retrospect,
Gabor Szabo,
Roxy Music,
U.S. Maple,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Essential Logic,
The Pop Group,
Camouflage,
Eli Mardock,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Metal Thangz,
Nils Olav,
Lyres,
Sam Rivers,
PIL,
Kenny Larkin,
The Techniques,
Sixth Finger,
Juan Atkins,
Man Eating Sloth,
KRS-One,
Nick Fraelich,
Nik Kershaw,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Blake Baxter,
Arthur Verocai,
Gichy Dan,
Robert Görl,
Crime,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bad Manners,
Lower 48,
Gerry Rafferty,
Howard Jones,
ABC,
Bobby Byrd,
The Doors,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Tremeloes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Saccharine Trust,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Pussy Galore,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.