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 the UAE and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 Sarah Menescal to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sun Ra Arkestra. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Grauzone,
Ornette Coleman,
Severed Heads,
Lalo Schifrin,
Patti Smith,
Suicide,
Gabor Szabo,
The Young Rascals,
Donald Byrd,
The Grass Roots,
Procol Harum,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Seeds,
Girls At Our Best!,
10cc,
Gong,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Slits,
The Real Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Public Enemy,
Qualms,
Sparks,
Todd Rundgren,
Robert Görl,
Ultravox,
D'Angelo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brass Construction,
Man Parrish,
Soul Sonic Force,
Shoche,
Nils Olav,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Letta Mbulu,
The Tremeloes,
Hoover,
Minor Threat,
Bluetip,
James White and The Blacks,
Vladislav Delay,
Dawn Penn,
Spandau Ballet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bauhaus,
DJ Style,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jeff Mills,
Japan,
Roger Hodgson,
FM Einheit,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Leaves,
The Pretty Things,
Pussy Galore,
Gichy Dan,
Tropical Tobacco,
KRS-One,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.