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 Togo and from Cairo.
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 Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
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 Glenn Branca to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Erasure,
PIL,
Harmonia,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bauhaus,
The Litter,
Cybotron,
Leonard Cohen,
The Offenders,
Royal Trux,
Graham Central Station,
Hoover,
Sun City Girls,
Mo-Dettes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Echospace,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Technova,
Idris Muhammad,
Faraquet,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Boogie Down Productions,
B.T. Express,
Juan Atkins,
The Zeros,
Joe Smooth,
Johnny Clarke,
Matthew Halsall,
Byron Stingily,
Camouflage,
Stereo Dub,
Underground Resistance,
The Move,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Remains,
Pierre Henry,
Kaleidoscope,
Intrusion,
Tom Boy,
Massinfluence,
Connie Case,
Supertramp,
the Sonics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Carl Craig,
The United States of America,
Donald Byrd,
Little Man,
Chris Corsano,
Procol Harum,
The Mojo Men,
Kerri Chandler,
The Angels of Light,
Michelle Simonal,
Spandau Ballet,
Zero Boys,
Black Pus,
OOIOO,
The Victims,
Tomorrow,
Rakim,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.