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 Indonesia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Make Up 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Animal Collective,
Unwound,
Man Parrish,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Vladislav Delay,
DNA,
the Swans,
The Saints,
The Smiths,
The Litter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Model 500,
The United States of America,
The Monochrome Set,
The Modern Lovers,
the Germs,
Eve St. Jones,
Magazine,
Babytalk,
Harry Pussy,
Max Romeo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Skaos,
Moss Icon,
Roy Ayers,
U.S. Maple,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Cale,
Electric Prunes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Sound,
Gang Green,
The Walker Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
Henry Cow,
Black Flag,
Rod Modell,
Can,
Technova,
Sixth Finger,
Adolescents,
Lebanon Hanover,
Piero Umiliani,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Minny Pops,
Outsiders,
Bluetip,
Second Layer,
MDC,
Index,
Pussy Galore,
Tomorrow,
The Happenings,
Swell Maps,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bob Dylan,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.