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 Sierra Leone and from Salvador.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 clarinet 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the techno 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cecil Taylor,
Boredoms,
Wally Richardson,
Tommy Roe,
KRS-One,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Fluxion,
Hoover,
Lower 48,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Slits,
Crime,
Chris Corsano,
Terrestrial Tones,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Half Japanese,
Junior Murvin,
Bronski Beat,
the Human League,
Sixth Finger,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
the Association,
Make Up,
Juan Atkins,
Lou Reed,
The Dirtbombs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Depeche Mode,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Albert Ayler,
Black Pus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Saints,
Yazoo,
Fat Boys,
Pierre Henry,
Gabor Szabo,
Yellowson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barbara Tucker,
Siglo XX,
Sugar Minott,
Sam Rivers,
Neu!,
Cheater Slicks,
Susan Cadogan,
The Smiths,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rotary Connection,
The Offenders,
Graham Central Station,
Sparks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gregory Isaacs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alton Ellis,
Byron Stingily,
The Fall,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.