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 Montenegro and from Madrid.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin 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 Grauzone to the disco 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
June of 44,
Desert Stars,
Kaleidoscope,
EPMD,
Lungfish,
Chris Corsano,
X-101,
Moss Icon,
Suburban Knight,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Piero Umiliani,
Theoretical Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
The Monochrome Set,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Duran Duran,
Sound Behaviour,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pierre Henry,
Tres Demented,
Gong,
The Music Machine,
Lee Hazlewood,
Robert Wyatt,
Andrew Hill,
The Beau Brummels,
Qualms,
The Wake,
Liliput,
The Count Five,
Throbbing Gristle,
James White and The Blacks,
Ten City,
Tim Buckley,
Derrick Morgan,
Harry Pussy,
Niagra,
Frankie Knuckles,
Public Image Ltd.,
The J.B.'s,
Mary Jane Girls,
Country Teasers,
ABBA,
Hoover,
Juan Atkins,
The Star Department,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Echospace,
the Normal,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mark Hollis,
The Fugs,
Rites of Spring,
Todd Rundgren,
Barbara Tucker,
The Birthday Party,
Blossom Toes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Visage,
Bootsy Collins,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.