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 Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sonic Youth to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bronski Beat,
The Music Machine,
the Swans,
Inner City,
The Stooges,
Mantronix,
Black Flag,
Roxette,
Magma,
Hoover,
Bauhaus,
Gerry Rafferty,
Darondo,
B.T. Express,
The Red Krayola,
Joensuu 1685,
Jeru the Damaja,
Josef K,
D'Angelo,
The Offenders,
Peter and Kerry,
Letta Mbulu,
AZ,
Jandek,
Drexciya,
Susan Cadogan,
The Last Poets,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deadbeat,
Kas Product,
Scott Walker,
The Misunderstood,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mandrill,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
E-Dancer,
The Birthday Party,
Boz Scaggs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ralphi Rosario,
John Foxx,
Monolake,
OOIOO,
Matthew Bourne,
Suicide,
Robert Görl,
The Grass Roots,
Johnny Clarke,
The Durutti Column,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ronnie Foster,
Dead Boys,
Lucky Dragons,
T. Rex,
Yaz,
U.S. Maple,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.