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 Uzbekistan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
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 Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy Collins,
The Walker Brothers,
The Barracudas,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pierre Henry,
Los Fastidios,
Section 25,
Bronski Beat,
Camouflage,
CMW,
Juan Atkins,
Boredoms,
This Heat,
Mantronix,
Barry Ungar,
The Monks,
Neu!,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
ABBA,
Deepchord,
the Slits,
Charles Mingus,
Wasted Youth,
Quadrant,
Alphaville,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Aaron Thompson,
Derrick May,
MDC,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eurythmics,
Matthew Halsall,
Shuggie Otis,
Camberwell Now,
Bobby Womack,
Spoonie Gee,
Magma,
X-101,
Deakin,
The Birthday Party,
Judy Mowatt,
Circle Jerks,
Accadde A,
Radiohead,
Y Pants,
Parry Music,
June of 44,
Faraquet,
Gabor Szabo,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Cybotron,
Brothers Johnson,
The Golliwogs,
Crash Course in Science,
Pagans,
Silicon Teens,
Henry Cow,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Newcleus,
David Axelrod,
Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms, Goldenarms.
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.