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 Ukraine and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 David Bowie to the techno 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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Spandau Ballet,
Mo-Dettes,
Kerri Chandler,
The Mojo Men,
Monks,
John Lydon,
Connie Case,
Rapeman,
The Smoke,
Steve Hackett,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mission of Burma,
Little Man,
Cybotron,
Liliput,
Brass Construction,
Sound Behaviour,
Zapp,
The Saints,
The Invisible,
Alphaville,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rufus Thomas,
James White and The Blacks,
Swans,
Television Personalities,
Bootsy Collins,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Barbara Tucker,
Sun City Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
New York Dolls,
Oblivians,
Gregory Isaacs,
Warren Ellis,
Donald Byrd,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kayak,
H. Thieme,
Josef K,
Gichy Dan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eric Copeland,
Fad Gadget,
The Slackers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Archie Shepp,
Sällskapet,
David Bowie,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
a-ha,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soul II Soul,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.