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 Mauritania and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Neon Judgement to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum 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?
The Techniques,
Aural Exciters,
The Smiths,
Arab on Radar,
Todd Terry,
The Zeros,
David McCallum,
Soft Machine,
Robert Wyatt,
Cluster,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sugar Minott,
Funkadelic,
The Last Poets,
Wally Richardson,
Nils Olav,
Scion,
Ultravox,
Ohio Players,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tom Boy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Cure,
Franke,
Leonard Cohen,
Basic Channel,
Davy DMX,
Robert Hood,
R.M.O.,
Chris Corsano,
Kerrie Biddell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pere Ubu,
Dave Gahan,
The Vogues,
Pole,
Aloha Tigers,
Colin Newman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bobby Byrd,
Radiohead,
Das Ding,
The Electric Prunes,
Echospace,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nirvana,
Jandek,
Delta 5,
Angry Samoans,
Urselle,
Fatback Band,
Unrelated Segments,
Newcleus,
The Fall,
Minnie Riperton,
Absolute Body Control,
Spandau Ballet,
F. McDonald,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.