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 Sudan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin 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 electroclash 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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All Crime tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Roy Ayers,
Cecil Taylor,
EPMD,
Visage,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Model 500,
Loose Ends,
Arcadia,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Reuben Wilson,
Ituana,
JFA,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Raincoats,
The Angels of Light,
Slave,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Leaves,
a-ha,
Letta Mbulu,
Urselle,
The Moody Blues,
Tim Buckley,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
UT,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Sheep,
D'Angelo,
Los Fastidios,
Patti Smith,
Mars,
Janne Schatter,
Fort Wilson Riot,
B.T. Express,
Minny Pops,
Oblivians,
The Barracudas,
Rufus Thomas,
The Move,
Camberwell Now,
FM Einheit,
Gang Starr,
Young Marble Giants,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Count Five,
Make Up,
Maurizio,
the Germs,
Black Moon,
The Grass Roots,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Organ,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Fuzztones,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Blues Magoos,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Flag,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.