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 Nigeria and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The New Christs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Green,
The Trojans,
Spandau Ballet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nik Kershaw,
Stetsasonic,
Soul II Soul,
Sight & Sound,
Marine Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Harmonia,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Adolescents,
The Busters,
Maurizio,
The Raincoats,
Swans,
Supertramp,
Organ,
Scrapy,
Jacques Brel,
Dual Sessions,
Gang of Four,
Godley & Creme,
Thee Headcoats,
Chrome,
Pierre Henry,
Angry Samoans,
Interpol,
James White and The Blacks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Parry Music,
Roxette,
Easy Going,
Radiohead,
New Age Steppers,
Eric B and Rakim,
kango's stein massive,
EPMD,
Mandrill,
Frankie Knuckles,
Guru Guru,
The Leaves,
R.M.O.,
Wally Richardson,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
Crash Course in Science,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cal Tjader,
The Cure,
Talk Talk,
Curtis Mayfield,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Joyce Sims,
AZ,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Index,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.