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 Georgia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the punk 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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Khruangbin,
Basic Channel,
L. Decosne,
Unwound,
Matthew Halsall,
Kool Moe Dee,
Neil Young,
Patti Smith,
The Busters,
Gichy Dan,
Lou Christie,
The Cure,
Black Pus,
The Red Krayola,
The Doobie Brothers,
Surgeon,
The Gladiators,
Crime,
Maurizio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pole,
The Litter,
Rufus Thomas,
Spandau Ballet,
Goldenarms,
Niagra,
Bob Dylan,
Rod Modell,
Television Personalities,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Barclay James Harvest,
Leonard Cohen,
Johnny Osbourne,
Black Sheep,
Television,
Harry Pussy,
Gabor Szabo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dave Gahan,
Grauzone,
Outsiders,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Reagan Youth,
Dark Day,
U.S. Maple,
Donny Hathaway,
Monolake,
Davy DMX,
Supertramp,
China Crisis,
Pantytec,
Marshall Jefferson,
Faraquet,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Pylon,
Electric Prunes,
Interpol,
The Angels of Light,
The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers, The Walker Brothers.
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.