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 Angola and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Mexico City.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 X-101 to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang on a Can All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
The Busters,
Roy Ayers,
Organ,
Subhumans,
Animal Collective,
Michelle Simonal,
Deakin,
Bush Tetras,
Cymande,
The Gun Club,
Arthur Verocai,
Alphaville,
Howard Jones,
The Mojo Men,
Johnny Clarke,
Delta 5,
Black Moon,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Slits,
Infiniti,
cv313,
Ponytail,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brass Construction,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Fugs,
Altered Images,
Niagra,
The Slits,
Soft Machine,
In Retrospect,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Albert Ayler,
Duran Duran,
The Count Five,
Pere Ubu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-Ray Spex,
Technova,
Mark Hollis,
Make Up,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Second Layer,
Urselle,
Vladislav Delay,
AZ,
The Blackbyrds,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Spoonie Gee,
Lalo Schifrin,
Goldenarms,
F. McDonald,
Kerri Chandler,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Talk Talk,
The Trojans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Skatalites,
Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz, Metal Thangz.
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.