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 South Africa and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Erasure to the jazz 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 Be Bop Deluxe. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
CMW,
The Names,
Sex Pistols,
Camouflage,
Marc Almond,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Clear Light,
Chris & Cosey,
Archie Shepp,
The Fire Engines,
Pantytec,
Lindisfarne,
the Normal,
Lebanon Hanover,
New York Dolls,
The Busters,
Slick Rick,
The Flesh Eaters,
John Cale,
Delon & Dalcan,
Robert Hood,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Fall,
Hardrive,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Donald Byrd,
The Saints,
Vainqueur,
Kurtis Blow,
Von Mondo,
Black Sheep,
Unrelated Segments,
Maurizio,
Charles Mingus,
The Electric Prunes,
ABC,
Fad Gadget,
Derrick May,
The Moody Blues,
Tres Demented,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joe Smooth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Mummies,
John Coltrane,
Johnny Clarke,
Sandy B,
Hoover,
The Associates,
Spandau Ballet,
Agitation Free,
Letta Mbulu,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Remains,
Leonard Cohen,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kas Product,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
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.