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 United Kingdom and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Quantec to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Severed Heads,
Moby Grape,
Saccharine Trust,
Motorama,
Tears for Fears,
Arcadia,
Magazine,
Roger Hodgson,
the Normal,
Zapp,
Second Layer,
Audionom,
Faraquet,
Suicide,
Jeru the Damaja,
Y Pants,
Banda Bassotti,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sonny Sharrock,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Section 25,
Pierre Henry,
Country Teasers,
L. Decosne,
The Gladiators,
Angry Samoans,
Rufus Thomas,
This Heat,
Television Personalities,
Charles Mingus,
The Knickerbockers,
Blossom Toes,
KRS-One,
Nik Kershaw,
Aswad,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Agitation Free,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Stockholm Monsters,
Funky Four + One,
Cameo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pagans,
Surgeon,
Hot Snakes,
The Selecter,
Cal Tjader,
Youth Brigade,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Fuzztones,
The Trojans,
Marmalade,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobby Sherman,
Malaria!,
Alton Ellis,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.