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 France and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eve St. Jones to the rap 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams 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 disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Deadbeat,
Pantytec,
Crispy Ambulance,
Technova,
Vladislav Delay,
Intrusion,
The Real Kids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
In Retrospect,
Iggy Pop,
The J.B.'s,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radio Birdman,
Matthew Halsall,
Fatback Band,
The Invisible,
Steve Hackett,
The Slackers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wolf Eyes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Carl Craig,
Archie Shepp,
The Divine Comedy,
Ronnie Foster,
Nico,
The Pretty Things,
The Fortunes,
X-102,
Kerri Chandler,
DJ Style,
Black Flag,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Easy Going,
Fat Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
The New Christs,
Gichy Dan,
June of 44,
Zapp,
Ten City,
Groovy Waters,
Drive Like Jehu,
Eden Ahbez,
Dave Gahan,
Sällskapet,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Harmonia,
Scion,
The Motions,
Skriet,
The Cowsills,
8 Eyed Spy,
Flash Fearless,
Funky Four + One,
The Searchers,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.