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 Turkmenistan and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron 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 Yazoo to the techno 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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Malaria!,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joe Smooth,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Cowsills,
Stetsasonic,
The J.B.'s,
Audionom,
Mission of Burma,
MDC,
Procol Harum,
Franke,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stiv Bators,
Tim Buckley,
Pagans,
The Litter,
Fatback Band,
Parry Music,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Suicide,
Eric Copeland,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
kango's stein massive,
Byron Stingily,
World's Most,
Althea and Donna,
Alton Ellis,
Urselle,
Don Cherry,
The Fuzztones,
Grey Daturas,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ohio Players,
Anakelly,
Anthony Braxton,
Tom Boy,
Slick Rick,
Judy Mowatt,
Ornette Coleman,
Stereo Dub,
David Bowie,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Vogues,
Bad Manners,
Flipper,
Frankie Knuckles,
Severed Heads,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Grandmaster Flash,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Siglo XX,
New Age Steppers,
Lyres,
Excepter,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Soul II Soul,
Freddie Wadling,
Mr. Review,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.