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 Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Shanghai.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pantaleimon to the electroclash 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 DJ Sneak. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Vainqueur,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tim Buckley,
John Foxx,
The Gladiators,
Popol Vuh,
Livin' Joy,
Interpol,
Ultravox,
The Buckinghams,
Malaria!,
Mars,
Urselle,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Alice Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Susan Cadogan,
The Martian,
Silicon Teens,
Jandek,
John Lydon,
Visage,
Ultra Naté,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Girls At Our Best!,
Yazoo,
Yusef Lateef,
Ituana,
Glambeats Corp.,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Siglo XX,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ronnie Foster,
Public Image Ltd.,
Royal Trux,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Country Teasers,
The Angels of Light,
Goldenarms,
Joensuu 1685,
Marine Girls,
Harmonia,
The Pretty Things,
The Move,
Mo-Dettes,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lyres,
Organ,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Connie Case,
Au Pairs,
Carl Craig,
Groovy Waters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
F. McDonald,
David Axelrod,
the Soft Cell,
Bizarre Inc.,
Soulsonic Force,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.