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 Panama and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Amon Düül to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Groovy Waters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echospace 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Blackbyrds,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Swell Maps,
Bobby Sherman,
UT,
Gil Scott Heron,
Saccharine Trust,
Desert Stars,
Malaria!,
Peter and Kerry,
Fatback Band,
Crime,
Pet Shop Boys,
Negative Approach,
Girls At Our Best!,
John Coltrane,
Laurel Aitken,
The Doors,
Parry Music,
Quando Quango,
Depeche Mode,
Barrington Levy,
Liliput,
The New Christs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pussy Galore,
Monks,
Suicide,
Kaleidoscope,
Traffic Nightmare,
Franke,
Al Stewart,
Bronski Beat,
The Sound,
F. McDonald,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fela Kuti,
Theoretical Girls,
Joey Negro,
Charles Mingus,
Ken Boothe,
Crooked Eye,
Surgeon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cybotron,
Alison Limerick,
Duran Duran,
The Victims,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roxette,
John Lydon,
Patti Smith,
Pylon,
Lyres,
John Holt,
Kayak,
Susan Cadogan,
Grey Daturas,
D'Angelo,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.