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 Kazakhstan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago to the disco 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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Ludus,
Royal Trux,
Charles Mingus,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
E-Dancer,
Duran Duran,
Terry Callier,
Magazine,
Bob Dylan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Angry Samoans,
Brand Nubian,
Flash Fearless,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Young Marble Giants,
Animal Collective,
Sun Ra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sparks,
Rosa Yemen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Colin Newman,
Andrew Hill,
The J.B.'s,
the Swans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Erasure,
Toni Rubio,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Kayak,
The Doors,
Marc Almond,
The Pop Group,
Rapeman,
UT,
Tommy Roe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joe Finger,
Pharoah Sanders,
Robert Görl,
The Smoke,
The Moleskins,
Nik Kershaw,
MDC,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Mars,
The Last Poets,
Bauhaus,
ABC,
Gang Starr,
The Stooges,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sandy B,
Swell Maps,
Marine Girls,
The Victims,
Bootsy Collins,
Peter & Gordon,
Icehouse,
Mo-Dettes,
Sound Behaviour,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.