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 Laos and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Wake to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Ice-T,
AZ,
Pylon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Mars,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang Green,
Colin Newman,
Faraquet,
Monks,
Joy Division,
Lyres,
Erasure,
Gong,
Negative Approach,
Mantronix,
B.T. Express,
UT,
the Human League,
The Black Dice,
Outsiders,
Black Bananas,
F. McDonald,
New Order,
Charles Mingus,
X-Ray Spex,
Delon & Dalcan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
MDC,
Rites of Spring,
Warsaw,
Cymande,
Minny Pops,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Moleskins,
Motorama,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Gladiators,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Dead Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Spandau Ballet,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pierre Henry,
Sun Ra,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tubeway Army,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cal Tjader,
CMW,
The Durutti Column,
The Neon Judgement,
Heaven 17,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Thee Headcoats,
Josef K,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scion,
Ohio Players,
Los Fastidios,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.