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 Mozambique and from Shanghai.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Barbara Tucker to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Prince Buster,
8 Eyed Spy,
Porter Ricks,
Niagra,
Electric Prunes,
Kaleidoscope,
New Age Steppers,
Glenn Branca,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jerry's Kids,
Los Fastidios,
DNA,
Amon Düül II,
Anakelly,
Mark Hollis,
Robert Wyatt,
The Barracudas,
The Fortunes,
Bobby Byrd,
Adolescents,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Bar-Kays,
Patti Smith,
The Leaves,
Quando Quango,
Jandek,
Godley & Creme,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Funky Four + One,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marine Girls,
Pulsallama,
Model 500,
Suburban Knight,
Graham Central Station,
The Seeds,
Deakin,
Organ,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Flesh Eaters,
Swans,
Tubeway Army,
Neu!,
Kurtis Blow,
Faraquet,
This Heat,
Aural Exciters,
John Holt,
The Fuzztones,
Laurel Aitken,
D'Angelo,
The Mummies,
Urselle,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Music Machine,
H. Thieme,
The Zeros,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Con Funk Shun,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.