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 East Timor and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Avey Tare to the dance 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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
This Heat,
Ohio Players,
Ossler,
A Certain Ratio,
The Names,
The Residents,
The Offenders,
Boredoms,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ten City,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Suburban Knight,
John Cale,
David McCallum,
Outsiders,
Radiohead,
Masters at Work,
Symarip,
Barclay James Harvest,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mummies,
X-Ray Spex,
Pierre Henry,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pussy Galore,
The Gun Club,
The Fall,
The Electric Prunes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Human League,
Intrusion,
Minor Threat,
The Moleskins,
Niagra,
Gang Gang Dance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lower 48,
Q and Not U,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New Age Steppers,
New York Dolls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobby Womack,
Erasure,
Severed Heads,
Ronnie Foster,
Monolake,
Ken Boothe,
Con Funk Shun,
Todd Rundgren,
Shoche,
Unrelated Segments,
Procol Harum,
Mr. Review,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rod Modell,
Althea and Donna,
The Doors,
Susan Cadogan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.