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 East Timor and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Babytalk to the crunk 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 The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
U.S. Maple,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jerry's Kids,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Subhumans,
Skriet,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Cure,
The Searchers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Derrick May,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Henry Cow,
Arthur Verocai,
Public Enemy,
Soft Cell,
Cal Tjader,
Big Daddy Kane,
Aaron Thompson,
The Fugs,
Second Layer,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tom Boy,
Lungfish,
Unrelated Segments,
Technova,
Television,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eddi Front,
Oneida,
Unwound,
The Tremeloes,
Roxy Music,
The Knickerbockers,
Make Up,
Barbara Tucker,
Eli Mardock,
The United States of America,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Slave,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Von Mondo,
Young Marble Giants,
Robert Wyatt,
Archie Shepp,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lou Christie,
Amazonics,
Magma,
R.M.O.,
Albert Ayler,
Prince Buster,
Tears for Fears,
Slick Rick,
June of 44,
The Walker Brothers,
Niagra,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.