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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 synthesizer 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 cv313 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Sex Pistols,
Grauzone,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lalann,
The Invisible,
Minnie Riperton,
Wasted Youth,
Hardrive,
Reagan Youth,
Country Teasers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Vladislav Delay,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aaron Thompson,
Grey Daturas,
Newcleus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Urselle,
DJ Style,
Mandrill,
Byron Stingily,
The Smoke,
Electric Prunes,
Oblivians,
Ituana,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
June of 44,
Jacques Brel,
Black Sheep,
Sparks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Happenings,
Babytalk,
Al Stewart,
Section 25,
Darondo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Shoche,
Tropical Tobacco,
June Days,
Marcia Griffiths,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Move,
Rosa Yemen,
The Pretty Things,
Amon Düül,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Simply Red,
The Moody Blues,
Basic Channel,
Sugar Minott,
Royal Trux,
Jacob Miller,
The Standells,
Fear,
Hot Snakes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gil Scott Heron,
Banda Bassotti,
Sexual Harrassment,
Freddie Wadling,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.