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 South Sudan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lyon.
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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Darondo to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joy Division record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
Country Teasers,
The Offenders,
Robert Wyatt,
Adolescents,
Hoover,
Chrome,
Bush Tetras,
Colin Newman,
The Slackers,
Bluetip,
Sexual Harrassment,
Girls At Our Best!,
Yellowson,
Pussy Galore,
Cybotron,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ohio Players,
Clear Light,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Electric Prunes,
Lungfish,
Grauzone,
Gabor Szabo,
Man Parrish,
the Bar-Kays,
One Last Wish,
Lakeside,
Unwound,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Barracudas,
DJ Sneak,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Blake Baxter,
Sandy B,
Al Stewart,
Tres Demented,
Agent Orange,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
AZ,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Remains,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gun Club,
Rod Modell,
The Searchers,
Nik Kershaw,
Steve Hackett,
Absolute Body Control,
Cheater Slicks,
Amazonics,
Qualms,
Kool Moe Dee,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dirtbombs,
Deakin,
Guru Guru,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gastr Del Sol,
Traffic Nightmare,
Funky Four + One,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.