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 Belgium and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Ituana,
Wings,
Juan Atkins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Spandau Ballet,
The United States of America,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Arcadia,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deepchord,
The Skatalites,
Severed Heads,
Al Stewart,
Quadrant,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brick,
Supertramp,
48th St. Collective,
Nirvana,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Angry Samoans,
Jimmy McGriff,
ABC,
Bob Dylan,
Eurythmics,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Basic Channel,
Dual Sessions,
Pierre Henry,
Skarface,
Arthur Verocai,
Michelle Simonal,
Sight & Sound,
Make Up,
June Days,
Ossler,
The Divine Comedy,
Hoover,
Inner City,
Flash Fearless,
Simply Red,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Doors,
The Durutti Column,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Tremeloes,
The Residents,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Motions,
The New Christs,
Moss Icon,
Lucky Dragons,
The Moleskins,
Livin' Joy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Public Enemy,
Scan 7,
A Certain Ratio,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.