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 Uganda and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Blackbyrds to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eyeless In Gaza record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The Mummies,
Tim Buckley,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Magazine,
Duran Duran,
Danielle Patucci,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Dirtbombs,
Groovy Waters,
the Swans,
Public Enemy,
The Sonics,
Lalann,
Glenn Branca,
Reuben Wilson,
Jandek,
John Holt,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fire Engines,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Cure,
The Dave Clark Five,
Outsiders,
Radiohead,
Lee Hazlewood,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Max Romeo,
Robert Görl,
Pagans,
Letta Mbulu,
Dead Boys,
Swans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bill Wells,
Todd Rundgren,
Parry Music,
Lucky Dragons,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gerry Rafferty,
Peter & Gordon,
Monks,
Main Source,
Hot Snakes,
Brothers Johnson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bauhaus,
John Cale,
These Immortal Souls,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Can,
MC5,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Quando Quango,
Eric Copeland,
The Alarm Clocks,
B.T. Express,
Bronski Beat,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gabor Szabo,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.