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 Ecuador and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 synthesizer 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 Red Krayola to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stiv Bators,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Sherman,
Echospace,
Ohio Players,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Smog,
UT,
Mark Hollis,
Vladislav Delay,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Shadows of Knight,
X-102,
Godley & Creme,
Lou Christie,
Ronan,
Cluster,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cecil Taylor,
The Moleskins,
Jerry's Kids,
Accadde A,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobbi Humphrey,
kango's stein massive,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Scion,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Motorama,
Lindisfarne,
Scan 7,
The Red Krayola,
Pet Shop Boys,
ABBA,
Soft Cell,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gories,
Amon Düül,
The Doors,
Franke,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gang Starr,
Fluxion,
Icehouse,
The Fall,
Eddi Front,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Velvet Underground,
Nico,
Saccharine Trust,
The Golliwogs,
Sun City Girls,
Erykah Badu,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ultra Naté,
Rosa Yemen,
The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band.
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.