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 Kyrgyzstan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 808 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 Cymande to the grunge 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 Liaisons Dangereuses. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Pulsallama,
The Dirtbombs,
Rapeman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jerry's Kids,
Marcia Griffiths,
Average White Band,
Janne Schatter,
Country Teasers,
The Selecter,
The Trojans,
Angry Samoans,
Skarface,
The Victims,
Jacob Miller,
Morten Harket,
The Divine Comedy,
The Searchers,
Unrelated Segments,
Joe Finger,
Amazonics,
The Moody Blues,
Ralphi Rosario,
Boz Scaggs,
Altered Images,
Blancmange,
Oneida,
Magazine,
Dave Gahan,
Chrome,
Kurtis Blow,
The Modern Lovers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bush Tetras,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ohio Players,
Hot Snakes,
Thompson Twins,
Drexciya,
Interpol,
The Techniques,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pussy Galore,
Kevin Saunderson,
Henry Cow,
Al Stewart,
Arcadia,
Bobby Womack,
The Monochrome Set,
The Evens,
Wasted Youth,
Mr. Review,
Sound Behaviour,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Nico,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rotary Connection,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.