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 Sri Lanka and from Delhi.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Marshall Jefferson to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
The Selecter,
Brothers Johnson,
The Index,
Donald Byrd,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Remains,
Vainqueur,
Eli Mardock,
Brick,
the Association,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Maleditus Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Faust,
Moss Icon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Davy DMX,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lee Hazlewood,
June of 44,
Jawbox,
Bobby Sherman,
Oneida,
Crooked Eye,
New Order,
B.T. Express,
Arthur Verocai,
Soft Machine,
Television Personalities,
Shuggie Otis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Cybotron,
Dave Gahan,
The Neon Judgement,
Arab on Radar,
Eurythmics,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Soft Cell,
This Heat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
U.S. Maple,
Dawn Penn,
R.M.O.,
Sound Behaviour,
Mark Hollis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
DJ Style,
Masters at Work,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barry Ungar,
Audionom,
Archie Shepp,
Symarip,
Trumans Water,
Ken Boothe,
The Offenders,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.