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 Botswana and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 guitar 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 Motorama to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flipper record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Soft Cell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Urselle,
Tres Demented,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Todd Terry,
The Moody Blues,
Sandy B,
Icehouse,
Peter and Kerry,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
The Vogues,
John Coltrane,
The Leaves,
Tubeway Army,
Clear Light,
Kerrie Biddell,
Brass Construction,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Johnny Clarke,
Cheater Slicks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Simply Red,
Cluster,
Country Teasers,
The Neon Judgement,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Skarface,
Ludus,
Joyce Sims,
Pierre Henry,
Scratch Acid,
Das Ding,
Althea and Donna,
Deakin,
Crispy Ambulance,
Agent Orange,
Angry Samoans,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Anakelly,
Subhumans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marcia Griffiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Avey Tare,
Janne Schatter,
Inner City,
David Axelrod,
New York Dolls,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Essential Logic,
Kaleidoscope,
Rosa Yemen,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.