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 Eritrea and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Soft Cell to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Motions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Wasted Youth,
Quando Quango,
Little Man,
Organ,
Vainqueur,
Pantaleimon,
8 Eyed Spy,
Black Pus,
John Foxx,
Can,
Pole,
ABC,
Robert Hood,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Negative Approach,
MDC,
Fluxion,
Avey Tare,
Aural Exciters,
Camouflage,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Tears for Fears,
DNA,
David McCallum,
Anakelly,
Sight & Sound,
The Smiths,
B.T. Express,
Grandmaster Flash,
Arcadia,
The Offenders,
PIL,
The Gun Club,
June Days,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Neu!,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Pagans,
Sarah Menescal,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cheater Slicks,
Crime,
Average White Band,
Erasure,
Ultra Naté,
Scott Walker,
Electric Prunes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Jacques Brel,
Amazonics,
Magma,
Leonard Cohen,
Soft Cell,
Procol Harum,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Cecil Taylor,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moebius,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Althea and Donna,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.