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 Ukraine and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Piero Umiliani to the grime 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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare 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 marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Fat Boys,
Swell Maps,
D'Angelo,
Ultravox,
Wolf Eyes,
Glenn Branca,
Tropical Tobacco,
Matthew Bourne,
Animal Collective,
DNA,
Graham Central Station,
The Fuzztones,
Sixth Finger,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gang Green,
OOIOO,
Sister Nancy,
Echospace,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
ABC,
Los Fastidios,
Mr. Review,
H. Thieme,
The Toasters,
Laurel Aitken,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kaleidoscope,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pantaleimon,
Mark Hollis,
Whodini,
Kas Product,
Arcadia,
The Vogues,
Duran Duran,
Wings,
Cluster,
Chris & Cosey,
Harpers Bizarre,
Freddie Wadling,
Sonny Sharrock,
Massinfluence,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fear,
Judy Mowatt,
Section 25,
Loose Ends,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Slave,
Jeff Mills,
New Age Steppers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Angels of Light,
Siglo XX,
Little Man,
Wally Richardson,
Roxy Music,
Quando Quango,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.