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 Liechtenstein and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Spandau Ballet to the jazz 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Bad Manners,
48th St. Collective,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
Dark Day,
Rakim,
Mark Hollis,
AZ,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jeru the Damaja,
Accadde A,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Pop Group,
Kas Product,
Harmonia,
The Monks,
FM Einheit,
Wolf Eyes,
The Evens,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kurtis Blow,
Oblivians,
Sam Rivers,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fela Kuti,
Animal Collective,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sonics,
Faraquet,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The American Breed,
The Beau Brummels,
Janne Schatter,
Moby Grape,
Terry Callier,
Magazine,
The Electric Prunes,
Nas,
Harry Pussy,
Mandrill,
Nirvana,
Pierre Henry,
Gong,
Vainqueur,
Cymande,
Ultravox,
JFA,
Newcleus,
K-Klass,
The Remains,
The Zeros,
Maleditus Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brass Construction,
The Young Rascals,
The Motions,
Matthew Bourne,
Man Parrish,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.