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 Bhutan and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 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 X-102 to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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 Gladiators,
Qualms,
Frankie Knuckles,
Livin' Joy,
the Soft Cell,
Rufus Thomas,
Pere Ubu,
Surgeon,
Mo-Dettes,
Sam Rivers,
Sun City Girls,
Hardrive,
Bauhaus,
Minutemen,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ossler,
Terrestrial Tones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
London Community Gospel Choir,
T. Rex,
Minny Pops,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Tommy Roe,
Soulsonic Force,
The Sonics,
Sarah Menescal,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Smiths,
Audionom,
Yaz,
Deepchord,
Mantronix,
Pierre Henry,
Accadde A,
the Association,
Archie Shepp,
The Real Kids,
Stiv Bators,
Unwound,
The Move,
The Sound,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Evens,
Niagra,
Fela Kuti,
Peter & Gordon,
Jacob Miller,
Jerry's Kids,
Royal Trux,
Matthew Halsall,
Pantaleimon,
The Gun Club,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Simply Red,
Visage,
Lou Christie,
Blancmange,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.