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 Spain and from Toronto.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the electroclash 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Coltrane,
Inner City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Count Five,
The Vogues,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gerry Rafferty,
Moby Grape,
The Gladiators,
The Divine Comedy,
Scrapy,
T. Rex,
Eric Dolphy,
Anakelly,
Pantaleimon,
Lalo Schifrin,
Faust,
Tubeway Army,
The Dirtbombs,
Thompson Twins,
The Real Kids,
The Associates,
Hashim,
Pussy Galore,
The J.B.'s,
The Invisible,
Mark Hollis,
Rhythm & Sound,
Icehouse,
The Motions,
Alphaville,
The Durutti Column,
Avey Tare,
Hoover,
Lou Christie,
Morten Harket,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Blackbyrds,
Brass Construction,
the Human League,
Nils Olav,
Nik Kershaw,
Television,
The Music Machine,
Youth Brigade,
Black Sheep,
Jeff Mills,
The Monochrome Set,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
PIL,
EPMD,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cecil Taylor,
Stiv Bators,
New Age Steppers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marvin Gaye,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.