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 Cameroon and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eve St. Jones to the techno 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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Desert Stars,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jerry's Kids,
Metal Thangz,
Severed Heads,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Half Japanese,
Pagans,
Gong,
Electric Prunes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
CMW,
Glenn Branca,
The Martian,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Wally Richardson,
Mandrill,
Marcia Griffiths,
Laurel Aitken,
Kenny Larkin,
Rufus Thomas,
Brand Nubian,
The Doors,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Nils Olav,
Jacob Miller,
The Music Machine,
Sun Ra,
Aswad,
Kaleidoscope,
The J.B.'s,
Scientists,
Ken Boothe,
X-101,
The Real Kids,
Blake Baxter,
MC5,
The Last Poets,
Stetsasonic,
Camouflage,
T. Rex,
The Star Department,
Soft Cell,
Skaos,
Reuben Wilson,
Brick,
The Invisible,
Barclay James Harvest,
Yellowson,
Schoolly D,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Von Mondo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Excepter,
Terry Callier,
Thee Headcoats,
Agitation Free,
Black Moon,
Blossom Toes,
Livin' Joy,
Audionom,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.