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 Azerbaijan and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 David Bowie 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
MC5,
Godley & Creme,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Hashim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marcia Griffiths,
Popol Vuh,
Sarah Menescal,
Dawn Penn,
Hasil Adkins,
R.M.O.,
Pussy Galore,
Maurizio,
CMW,
Jeru the Damaja,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Juan Atkins,
Bang On A Can,
Niagra,
Lightning Bolt,
Iggy Pop,
Organ,
The Evens,
Porter Ricks,
Piero Umiliani,
Tropical Tobacco,
T.S.O.L.,
Brick,
DNA,
Colin Newman,
Duran Duran,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mandrill,
Gabor Szabo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Motions,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Young Marble Giants,
Blancmange,
X-Ray Spex,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Magazine,
Morten Harket,
Dark Day,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gerry Rafferty,
the Association,
Slave,
Sun City Girls,
L. Decosne,
Warsaw,
Donny Hathaway,
The Techniques,
Lalo Schifrin,
DJ Sneak,
Urselle,
Das Ding,
Scientists,
The Red Krayola,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.