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 Netherlands and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Matthew Bourne to the grime 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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Connie Case,
The Saints,
Outsiders,
Brick,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kenny Larkin,
The Red Krayola,
Erasure,
Electric Prunes,
Moss Icon,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Byrd,
Kurtis Blow,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Dirtbombs,
Siglo XX,
The Leaves,
Agitation Free,
Country Teasers,
Wire,
Graham Central Station,
Davy DMX,
The Black Dice,
Suicide,
Warren Ellis,
Cheater Slicks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Man Parrish,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sex Pistols,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
EPMD,
Brass Construction,
In Retrospect,
8 Eyed Spy,
Boogie Down Productions,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Surgeon,
Reagan Youth,
Freddie Wadling,
Jeff Lynne,
Terrestrial Tones,
L. Decosne,
Wally Richardson,
Groovy Waters,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Andrew Hill,
The Associates,
Gang of Four,
The Smoke,
Pierre Henry,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Sheep,
48th St. Collective,
John Coltrane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Henry Cow,
Black Pus,
The Modern Lovers,
Danielle Patucci,
Mars,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.