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 Serbia and from Glasgow.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Matthew Halsall to the rap 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 Fatback Band. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Joyce Sims,
The Associates,
Warren Ellis,
Ultravox,
Bang On A Can,
Simply Red,
Rakim,
Todd Terry,
Zapp,
Boogie Down Productions,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Oneida,
Arthur Verocai,
R.M.O.,
Lalann,
Yazoo,
Sight & Sound,
Pierre Henry,
Average White Band,
Sam Rivers,
Robert Wyatt,
Delon & Dalcan,
June of 44,
Ultra Naté,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
DNA,
The Raincoats,
This Heat,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Trojans,
Porter Ricks,
World's Most,
Heaven 17,
The Neon Judgement,
Crime,
Mad Mike,
Interpol,
Siglo XX,
Dead Boys,
Motorama,
Bronski Beat,
Bill Near,
Infiniti,
Skarface,
Steve Hackett,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wire,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sister Nancy,
Tres Demented,
Goldenarms,
Lucky Dragons,
X-Ray Spex,
Tim Buckley,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Move,
The American Breed,
Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water, Trumans Water.
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.