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 Benin and from Salvador.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 808 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 The Cure to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a FM Einheit record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
The Index,
Matthew Halsall,
Banda Bassotti,
Mad Mike,
the Human League,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Almond,
Alice Coltrane,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Dirtbombs,
Sister Nancy,
Joy Division,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scan 7,
H. Thieme,
Be Bop Deluxe,
E-Dancer,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Josef K,
Motorama,
48th St. Collective,
Juan Atkins,
Cecil Taylor,
Laurel Aitken,
Radiohead,
Gabor Szabo,
Bronski Beat,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New York Dolls,
Don Cherry,
The Move,
Rites of Spring,
Neu!,
Popol Vuh,
Boz Scaggs,
Gichy Dan,
EPMD,
Visage,
Hasil Adkins,
Animal Collective,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
David Bowie,
Black Moon,
Half Japanese,
The Pop Group,
UT,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barbara Tucker,
The United States of America,
Chris & Cosey,
Ultimate Spinach,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Germs,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Fuzztones,
Icehouse,
the Association,
Colin Newman,
Peter and Kerry,
The Moody Blues,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.