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 Angola and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
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 The Blues Magoos to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Nik Kershaw,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rapeman,
The Tremeloes,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Desert Stars,
Eric Dolphy,
The Electric Prunes,
The Buckinghams,
Q65,
the Sonics,
Sex Pistols,
Marmalade,
Sun Ra,
X-102,
Lou Christie,
The United States of America,
Hoover,
Procol Harum,
Drive Like Jehu,
Donald Byrd,
Eve St. Jones,
Althea and Donna,
Nas,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Martian,
the Germs,
Unwound,
Roy Ayers,
The Neon Judgement,
Audionom,
The Durutti Column,
The Index,
Sparks,
Ohio Players,
The Busters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Saccharine Trust,
Camouflage,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tomorrow,
Fat Boys,
Cluster,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Graham Central Station,
Y Pants,
Dark Day,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Sisters of Mercy,
Robert Görl,
Das Ding,
Lower 48,
Minutemen,
Moebius,
Suicide,
the Human League,
Roxette,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.