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 Latvia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Basic Channel to the techno 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Sparks,
Siglo XX,
Gabor Szabo,
Gichy Dan,
Infiniti,
K-Klass,
Hot Snakes,
Reagan Youth,
Vainqueur,
Scratch Acid,
X-Ray Spex,
Flamin' Groovies,
Simply Red,
Patti Smith,
Stetsasonic,
The Electric Prunes,
The Knickerbockers,
Quantec,
Oblivians,
Scrapy,
The Mummies,
Ossler,
Jandek,
Neil Young,
Suburban Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Inner City,
Gang Gang Dance,
Funkadelic,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Desert Stars,
Carl Craig,
Connie Case,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Misunderstood,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Danielle Patucci,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harry Pussy,
The Offenders,
Alton Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
Andrew Hill,
Bob Dylan,
Peter & Gordon,
Matthew Bourne,
Sugar Minott,
Funky Four + One,
James White and The Blacks,
The Beau Brummels,
Yazoo,
Goldenarms,
Blancmange,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Morten Harket,
Liliput,
The Remains,
The Doobie Brothers,
Zapp,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.