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 Madagascar and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Roy Ayers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Anakelly,
Roger Hodgson,
Young Marble Giants,
U.S. Maple,
T.S.O.L.,
Magazine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Walker Brothers,
Bill Near,
Chris Corsano,
Babytalk,
Prince Buster,
Althea and Donna,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Searchers,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Remains,
Section 25,
The New Christs,
Skarface,
Boredoms,
Iggy Pop,
Jimmy McGriff,
Visage,
This Heat,
Man Parrish,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
PIL,
The Cowsills,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fat Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Schoolly D,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Average White Band,
The Real Kids,
The Dead C,
The Move,
UT,
Chris & Cosey,
The Index,
Sister Nancy,
Steve Hackett,
Slave,
World's Most,
Peter and Kerry,
Warsaw,
The Blackbyrds,
The Five Americans,
The Electric Prunes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Camouflage,
Morten Harket,
KRS-One,
Aloha Tigers,
Joy Division,
Arcadia,
Danielle Patucci,
Judy Mowatt,
Ralphi Rosario,
Nick Fraelich,
Cymande,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.