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 Costa Rica and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Monks,
Technova,
Piero Umiliani,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Absolute Body Control,
10cc,
Country Teasers,
Tears for Fears,
Lakeside,
Fugazi,
The Mummies,
Janne Schatter,
Dawn Penn,
New Order,
Stiv Bators,
Radiopuhelimet,
Minny Pops,
Rakim,
Nico,
DNA,
Talk Talk,
Davy DMX,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gichy Dan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Circle Jerks,
Skarface,
The Busters,
T. Rex,
Spandau Ballet,
Wings,
Lalann,
The Smiths,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tommy Roe,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Second Layer,
Joe Smooth,
Silicon Teens,
Warren Ellis,
Roxy Music,
Infiniti,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sparks,
the Soft Cell,
Newcleus,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Max Romeo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
These Immortal Souls,
Blake Baxter,
The Kinks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
ABBA,
Desert Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
John Cale,
Avey Tare,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.