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 Fiji and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Sexual Harrassment to the disco 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Chris Corsano,
Au Pairs,
Soft Cell,
New York Dolls,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
Index,
L. Decosne,
The J.B.'s,
Con Funk Shun,
Agitation Free,
Siglo XX,
Technova,
Quando Quango,
The Standells,
Slave,
Massinfluence,
Black Pus,
Fad Gadget,
The American Breed,
The Divine Comedy,
Kas Product,
ABC,
A Certain Ratio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
kango's stein massive,
Bad Manners,
Wasted Youth,
Graham Central Station,
These Immortal Souls,
Joey Negro,
Blossom Toes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Interpol,
The Associates,
Buzzcocks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Gories,
The Selecter,
The Toasters,
Easy Going,
Television,
Blake Baxter,
Man Parrish,
Cheater Slicks,
Brothers Johnson,
Laurel Aitken,
Mars,
Simply Red,
Spoonie Gee,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Remains,
Roxy Music,
Yazoo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gang Starr,
Gang Green,
Sun Ra,
The Gun Club,
The Victims,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.