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 Botswana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Red Krayola to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kas Product record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aural Exciters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Slits,
Gang Green,
Ten City,
In Retrospect,
Rufus Thomas,
The Invisible,
Rod Modell,
The Gladiators,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Reuben Wilson,
Black Bananas,
Q65,
Gil Scott Heron,
Grey Daturas,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bobby Byrd,
Deakin,
Subhumans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dawn Penn,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dave Gahan,
Spandau Ballet,
Rhythm & Sound,
Unrelated Segments,
Slave,
Buzzcocks,
The Barracudas,
Los Fastidios,
Crispy Ambulance,
Blake Baxter,
The Durutti Column,
Royal Trux,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Half Japanese,
Neu!,
Freddie Wadling,
The Black Dice,
kango's stein massive,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Magma,
Wire,
Zero Boys,
DNA,
Davy DMX,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pantytec,
Ponytail,
Jawbox,
La Düsseldorf,
Ice-T,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dead Boys,
The Real Kids,
Swans,
Colin Newman,
a-ha,
Country Teasers,
Lucky Dragons,
Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles, Frankie Knuckles.
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.