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 United Kingdom and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 harpsichord 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 Anakelly to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Eli Mardock,
The Durutti Column,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wolf Eyes,
The Victims,
Simply Red,
The Gun Club,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rites of Spring,
Lakeside,
Unwound,
Sparks,
Aloha Tigers,
Minnie Riperton,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Dave Gahan,
Monks,
Sonic Youth,
X-102,
Groovy Waters,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Martian,
The Dirtbombs,
Niagra,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Skarface,
Harmonia,
Stetsasonic,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pussy Galore,
Kayak,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Popol Vuh,
Sam Rivers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Soft Machine,
The Divine Comedy,
Peter and Kerry,
Marine Girls,
Robert Görl,
Anakelly,
Matthew Bourne,
The Neon Judgement,
Brass Construction,
Mad Mike,
Rufus Thomas,
Mo-Dettes,
The Buckinghams,
Infiniti,
Ten City,
The Gories,
Minutemen,
Tim Buckley,
Alphaville,
Morten Harket,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Delon & Dalcan,
Arthur Verocai,
Fela Kuti,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.