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 Argentina and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ 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 Procol Harum to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Vogues,
The Fire Engines,
Shuggie Otis,
Tropical Tobacco,
Connie Case,
Gang of Four,
Sonic Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Vainqueur,
AZ,
Television Personalities,
Youth Brigade,
Joey Negro,
Niagra,
New Order,
Q and Not U,
Aaron Thompson,
Parry Music,
The Real Kids,
Newcleus,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Mojo Men,
The Remains,
The Star Department,
The Smoke,
DNA,
Lindisfarne,
Lou Reed,
Don Cherry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Man Parrish,
Talk Talk,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Young Rascals,
The Associates,
Ponytail,
Oneida,
Ultravox,
Masters at Work,
Scion,
The Invisible,
Liliput,
Adolescents,
Matthew Bourne,
The Gladiators,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Excepter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Oblivians,
D'Angelo,
Lyres,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Beau Brummels,
Quadrant,
New York Dolls,
Jerry's Kids,
Dead Boys,
The Blues Magoos,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.