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 Slovenia and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the electroclash 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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joe Smooth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
The Wake,
Bobby Womack,
Lower 48,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ultimate Spinach,
LL Cool J,
a-ha,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jandek,
Darondo,
The Doors,
EPMD,
James White and The Blacks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Detroit Cobras,
June of 44,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Laurel Aitken,
Public Enemy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nirvana,
Buzzcocks,
Bang On A Can,
Procol Harum,
Gabor Szabo,
Pussy Galore,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sex Pistols,
the Germs,
Symarip,
Yusef Lateef,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Walker Brothers,
Altered Images,
Cymande,
Aloha Tigers,
Moss Icon,
Jerry's Kids,
Negative Approach,
The Searchers,
Amon Düül II,
Lou Reed,
Ituana,
Suicide,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Infiniti,
Chris & Cosey,
The Modern Lovers,
X-101,
Ohio Players,
Black Pus,
A Certain Ratio,
Can,
Ronnie Foster,
Scott Walker,
Rhythm & Sound,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bobby Byrd,
Electric Prunes,
Maurizio,
The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks, The Alarm Clocks.
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.