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 Angola and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 mellotron 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 Barrington Levy to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Ohio Players,
Groovy Waters,
The Pretty Things,
Frankie Knuckles,
Malaria!,
Soft Cell,
Deakin,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Barracudas,
Basic Channel,
The Birthday Party,
Subhumans,
In Retrospect,
Nation of Ulysses,
Erasure,
Bill Wells,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Man Parrish,
Spandau Ballet,
Masters at Work,
Lebanon Hanover,
Trumans Water,
Pylon,
Dawn Penn,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Happenings,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Modern Lovers,
Marc Almond,
Mark Hollis,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Knickerbockers,
Dead Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Kurtis Blow,
Ludus,
Zapp,
The Moody Blues,
Altered Images,
Brand Nubian,
The J.B.'s,
The Human League,
Hoover,
Darondo,
The Wake,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Eric Copeland,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Pop Group,
Sun City Girls,
Stereo Dub,
The Moleskins,
Flamin' Groovies,
Janne Schatter,
Average White Band,
Bill Near,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.