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 Chad and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Lou Christie to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Fela Kuti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Ultravox,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Cameo,
Youth Brigade,
Amon Düül II,
Wolf Eyes,
Supertramp,
La Düsseldorf,
PIL,
Scan 7,
Eric Copeland,
Pierre Henry,
Silicon Teens,
Siglo XX,
Gang Gang Dance,
Beasts of Bourbon,
10cc,
Surgeon,
Patti Smith,
Sonny Sharrock,
Rosa Yemen,
Cybotron,
Underground Resistance,
B.T. Express,
Reuben Wilson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kerrie Biddell,
Suicide,
Banda Bassotti,
F. McDonald,
The Fire Engines,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lower 48,
The Smoke,
Make Up,
Jeff Lynne,
Lakeside,
Howard Jones,
Interpol,
The Buckinghams,
Jerry's Kids,
Marmalade,
The Angels of Light,
Dave Gahan,
The Litter,
Maurizio,
Jeru the Damaja,
Alison Limerick,
Aaron Thompson,
Oblivians,
Joey Negro,
Big Daddy Kane,
Trumans Water,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Magma,
Roxette,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gerry Rafferty,
Avey Tare,
Angry Samoans,
One Last Wish,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.