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 Vietnam and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Theoretical Girls to the rap 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerrie Biddell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
The Flesh Eaters,
AZ,
The Buckinghams,
The Invisible,
Robert Hood,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Real Kids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bill Near,
MDC,
Soft Cell,
X-101,
The Moleskins,
Juan Atkins,
Rekid,
Trumans Water,
Grey Daturas,
Wasted Youth,
The Doobie Brothers,
Flipper,
The Smiths,
The Toasters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang of Four,
Los Fastidios,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jeff Lynne,
Joe Smooth,
Model 500,
Eric Copeland,
Bluetip,
Danielle Patucci,
Chris & Cosey,
Au Pairs,
Second Layer,
Infiniti,
Minutemen,
the Soft Cell,
48th St. Collective,
The Cosmic Jokers,
James White and The Blacks,
Tres Demented,
Letta Mbulu,
Skarface,
The Knickerbockers,
Kas Product,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Busters,
Kaleidoscope,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Gong,
Marcia Griffiths,
D'Angelo,
Kayak,
Crispian St. Peters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Terry Callier,
Thee Headcoats,
Easy Going,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.