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 Portugal and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Accadde A to the punk 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Donny Hathaway,
Joey Negro,
Minnie Riperton,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sight & Sound,
Howard Jones,
Bobby Byrd,
Bootsy Collins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Erasure,
Eddi Front,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Mo-Dettes,
Scott Walker,
Frankie Knuckles,
Make Up,
The Happenings,
Au Pairs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Vladislav Delay,
The Knickerbockers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Skarface,
Radiohead,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Thompson Twins,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Sonics,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cymande,
Loose Ends,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Robert Görl,
Desert Stars,
Smog,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Deadbeat,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Cure,
DJ Style,
Sound Behaviour,
Fela Kuti,
Arcadia,
Tubeway Army,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Zeros,
The Sound,
The Remains,
Monolake,
The Angels of Light,
Supertramp,
The Young Rascals,
Joyce Sims,
Audionom,
Pere Ubu,
Pet Shop Boys,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
10cc,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.