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 Liechtenstein 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pere Ubu to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
Cal Tjader,
Minny Pops,
Blossom Toes,
Livin' Joy,
Accadde A,
The Grass Roots,
The Music Machine,
The Last Poets,
Wire,
Ken Boothe,
The Dirtbombs,
Stockholm Monsters,
World's Most,
Qualms,
Derrick May,
Warsaw,
The Trojans,
Al Stewart,
Arcadia,
LL Cool J,
Metal Thangz,
Black Moon,
The Offenders,
The Dave Clark Five,
Swans,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Pus,
Davy DMX,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gang Starr,
La Düsseldorf,
The Golliwogs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Juan Atkins,
Fluxion,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lou Reed,
Rakim,
Can,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quando Quango,
the Normal,
Ohio Players,
Y Pants,
Man Parrish,
Porter Ricks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
In Retrospect,
Bang On A Can,
Niagra,
The United States of America,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wings,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sarah Menescal,
Joe Finger,
These Immortal Souls,
Scratch Acid,
Magma,
Freddie Wadling,
Suburban Knight,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.