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 Haiti and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 R.M.O. to the grunge 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Buzzcocks,
Cymande,
Inner City,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kurtis Blow,
Q65,
the Sonics,
Arab on Radar,
Camouflage,
Ice-T,
Sex Pistols,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crooked Eye,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Howard Jones,
Mr. Review,
The Barracudas,
Boredoms,
One Last Wish,
the Association,
Aswad,
The Modern Lovers,
Chris Corsano,
Spandau Ballet,
Jawbox,
Roy Ayers,
Cybotron,
Ornette Coleman,
Jacques Brel,
Loose Ends,
Das Ding,
Dead Boys,
Khruangbin,
Ponytail,
Moby Grape,
Moss Icon,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Crash Course in Science,
Ralphi Rosario,
Blancmange,
the Bar-Kays,
Skarface,
Black Flag,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kerri Chandler,
Minnie Riperton,
Japan,
Oblivians,
Letta Mbulu,
The Electric Prunes,
Yazoo,
The Knickerbockers,
Lalann,
Aloha Tigers,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Selecter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.