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 Senegal and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 clarinet 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 Marvin Gaye to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Moebius 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 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Mo-Dettes,
Royal Trux,
Franke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Suburban Knight,
Harry Pussy,
The Fugs,
Audionom,
Lyres,
Ronan,
Pagans,
Black Pus,
Sexual Harrassment,
Shuggie Otis,
Gabor Szabo,
Barclay James Harvest,
June Days,
Pussy Galore,
Cybotron,
Unrelated Segments,
The Angels of Light,
Public Enemy,
MDC,
Soulsonic Force,
The Offenders,
John Holt,
Icehouse,
Roxette,
The Invisible,
Delta 5,
Organ,
Joey Negro,
Isaac Hayes,
Unwound,
Japan,
The Gap Band,
48th St. Collective,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Maurizio,
Scion,
Masters at Work,
David Bowie,
Main Source,
Banda Bassotti,
Johnny Clarke,
Laurel Aitken,
Minor Threat,
Mr. Review,
Magazine,
The Grass Roots,
Soft Machine,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ken Boothe,
Popol Vuh,
Glambeats Corp.,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Smoke,
Oneida,
Nils Olav,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.