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 Solomon Islands and from Tokyo.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Desert Stars to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moss Icon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Derrick May,
Sonic Youth,
Tim Buckley,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Max Romeo,
Archie Shepp,
Eric Dolphy,
Buzzcocks,
Television Personalities,
Lakeside,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hasil Adkins,
Crispy Ambulance,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Searchers,
Dawn Penn,
Terry Callier,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gang of Four,
Heaven 17,
Tubeway Army,
Mr. Review,
Blake Baxter,
Jandek,
Kas Product,
Todd Rundgren,
The Beau Brummels,
Fela Kuti,
Matthew Bourne,
Roxette,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rekid,
Silicon Teens,
Arthur Verocai,
Agitation Free,
The Wake,
Duran Duran,
Nico,
The Knickerbockers,
Sixth Finger,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
Drexciya,
Rites of Spring,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
KRS-One,
Letta Mbulu,
Fluxion,
Steve Hackett,
Excepter,
Saccharine Trust,
Eddi Front,
Surgeon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lou Christie,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
The Vogues,
Alison Limerick,
Malaria!,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.