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 Philadelphia.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Swans to the punk 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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Metal Thangz,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ludus,
Gil Scott Heron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Index,
Minny Pops,
The Gun Club,
Faraquet,
Scan 7,
Kurtis Blow,
Amazonics,
Cybotron,
Pulsallama,
the Fania All-Stars,
Skarface,
Ornette Coleman,
Todd Rundgren,
Joy Division,
The Count Five,
Jeff Mills,
Janne Schatter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Soul Sonic Force,
the Normal,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Newcleus,
Connie Case,
Ituana,
The Neon Judgement,
Matthew Bourne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Susan Cadogan,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pet Shop Boys,
Archie Shepp,
Blake Baxter,
June Days,
Model 500,
Dennis Brown,
Talk Talk,
Maurizio,
Gang of Four,
Bill Wells,
a-ha,
Circle Jerks,
Erykah Badu,
Interpol,
Accadde A,
Harpers Bizarre,
Morten Harket,
Pantytec,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Move,
Loose Ends,
Nation of Ulysses,
Quando Quango,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon, Black Moon.
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.