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 Sweden and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator 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 Kayak to the crunk 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Pus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bootsy Collins,
Motorama,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kayak,
Can,
The Associates,
Carl Craig,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
KRS-One,
Jacob Miller,
Infiniti,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sandy B,
The Smiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
Amazonics,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Danielle Patucci,
Robert Hood,
Tears for Fears,
B.T. Express,
Al Stewart,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Panda Bear,
Half Japanese,
Zapp,
the Association,
Blancmange,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fortunes,
The Fuzztones,
UT,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Reagan Youth,
Anakelly,
The Fire Engines,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gun Club,
The Moleskins,
Ossler,
Aaron Thompson,
Goldenarms,
Pulsallama,
Avey Tare,
Drive Like Jehu,
Public Image Ltd.,
Junior Murvin,
Fear,
A Certain Ratio,
Hot Snakes,
Kenny Larkin,
The Neon Judgement,
Spandau Ballet,
Dave Gahan,
Ultravox,
Rites of Spring,
Thee Headcoats,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.