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 Malawi and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 chamberlin 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 Slick Rick to the grunge 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Subhumans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Niagra,
Morten Harket,
The Red Krayola,
Ultra Naté,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fugazi,
Tropical Tobacco,
Darondo,
Dead Boys,
Howard Jones,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Youth Brigade,
Banda Bassotti,
L. Decosne,
Ludus,
Rod Modell,
Magazine,
Aloha Tigers,
Black Flag,
Iggy Pop,
Ken Boothe,
Bob Dylan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Michelle Simonal,
Second Layer,
AZ,
The Young Rascals,
the Slits,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ornette Coleman,
Wally Richardson,
Pere Ubu,
Shuggie Otis,
Glenn Branca,
Shoche,
the Swans,
Matthew Bourne,
Gabor Szabo,
F. McDonald,
Technova,
Moebius,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joe Finger,
Roxette,
Barrington Levy,
The Walker Brothers,
Kenny Larkin,
Johnny Osbourne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
T.S.O.L.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sister Nancy,
The Invisible,
Von Mondo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.