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 Dominican Republic and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Agent Orange to the dance 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Slick Rick,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wings,
June of 44,
Monks,
Shoche,
Todd Rundgren,
D'Angelo,
The Mojo Men,
Don Cherry,
The Kinks,
The Moody Blues,
Scion,
Tears for Fears,
Gang of Four,
Cluster,
Kevin Saunderson,
Harry Pussy,
June Days,
48th St. Collective,
Mo-Dettes,
Livin' Joy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Silicon Teens,
Surgeon,
The Busters,
DNA,
The Monks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sound Behaviour,
Althea and Donna,
Icehouse,
Outsiders,
Jacques Brel,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Duran Duran,
Mad Mike,
Barbara Tucker,
Lindisfarne,
Nas,
Audionom,
Rakim,
Nirvana,
Crash Course in Science,
Alphaville,
The Beau Brummels,
Gang Green,
Motorama,
Saccharine Trust,
A Certain Ratio,
The Victims,
Terry Callier,
Lower 48,
Make Up,
Rosa Yemen,
K-Klass,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Warsaw,
Neu!,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux.
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.