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 South Africa and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ 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 Men They Couldn't Hang to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Bobby Sherman,
James White and The Blacks,
Hot Snakes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Faust,
Roy Ayers,
Lyres,
Can,
Ornette Coleman,
Lakeside,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cure,
Harry Pussy,
Skriet,
Joey Negro,
Sun City Girls,
The Moody Blues,
June Days,
Rakim,
Unrelated Segments,
Lungfish,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marshall Jefferson,
Technova,
Malaria!,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Hutcherson,
La Düsseldorf,
Organ,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Yazoo,
Thee Headcoats,
Theoretical Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Model 500,
Sound Behaviour,
Hardrive,
Gang Starr,
Pantytec,
Outsiders,
Albert Ayler,
Anthony Braxton,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tubeway Army,
The Golliwogs,
Bobby Byrd,
The Young Rascals,
Rotary Connection,
This Heat,
Bad Manners,
Rites of Spring,
New Age Steppers,
Darondo,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Simply Red,
Masters at Work,
Grey Daturas,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.