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 Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes 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 Techniques to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Barry Ungar,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Danielle Patucci,
Rakim,
Cymande,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Angry Samoans,
Sister Nancy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ronan,
Thompson Twins,
ABBA,
Jacob Miller,
OOIOO,
Easy Going,
Brothers Johnson,
The Leaves,
Supertramp,
Man Parrish,
The Alarm Clocks,
David Bowie,
Sandy B,
Warsaw,
Fugazi,
Janne Schatter,
Bill Wells,
Massinfluence,
Crash Course in Science,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Kinks,
Parry Music,
Bush Tetras,
One Last Wish,
Soft Machine,
Archie Shepp,
The Last Poets,
Jeff Mills,
Donny Hathaway,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Buckinghams,
Kayak,
Wire,
Pulsallama,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hot Snakes,
Surgeon,
The Move,
Minutemen,
Audionom,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
UT,
The Cowsills,
Liliput,
Peter and Kerry,
Theoretical Girls,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Frankie Knuckles,
Terry Callier,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.