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 Guatemala and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Joe Smooth to the rock 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 The New Christs. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Rosa Yemen,
Man Parrish,
Kayak,
Glenn Branca,
D'Angelo,
Kaleidoscope,
Cymande,
Jacob Miller,
Donald Byrd,
Camouflage,
Black Bananas,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Intrusion,
The Flesh Eaters,
Absolute Body Control,
Fatback Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Remains,
Television,
Lindisfarne,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Selecter,
Funky Four + One,
Sex Pistols,
Bill Near,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
The American Breed,
Reagan Youth,
Skaos,
Metal Thangz,
Aural Exciters,
Con Funk Shun,
Tommy Roe,
Jawbox,
Roy Ayers,
Barbara Tucker,
Cluster,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Organ,
Bang On A Can,
The Five Americans,
the Normal,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Soulsonic Force,
Thee Headcoats,
H. Thieme,
Joe Smooth,
Icehouse,
Model 500,
Connie Case,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Faust,
Unrelated Segments,
The Beau Brummels,
Bootsy Collins,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Association,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.