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 Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Robert Palmer 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 Harry Pussy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Black Dice,
X-Ray Spex,
Fugazi,
Crime,
Yazoo,
Icehouse,
Cymande,
Lightning Bolt,
Heaven 17,
Half Japanese,
Slick Rick,
Brick,
Magma,
Marmalade,
Sarah Menescal,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Glenn Branca,
Marcia Griffiths,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
In Retrospect,
The Toasters,
Clear Light,
Rufus Thomas,
Nirvana,
Barrington Levy,
Donald Byrd,
Lou Christie,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Technova,
Rod Modell,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lower 48,
Bizarre Inc.,
Nils Olav,
Sandy B,
Goldenarms,
Organ,
The Skatalites,
The Count Five,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Los Fastidios,
Depeche Mode,
Big Daddy Kane,
Chrome,
Magazine,
Cybotron,
The Tremeloes,
The Leaves,
Grey Daturas,
Saccharine Trust,
Agent Orange,
Quando Quango,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Pretty Things,
The Walker Brothers,
the Normal,
Mission of Burma,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.