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 St Lucia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Jerry's Kids,
Maurizio,
Sun City Girls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Motions,
Ice-T,
EPMD,
Simply Red,
Quando Quango,
Amon Düül,
The Slackers,
The Tremeloes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Circle Jerks,
Japan,
The Gladiators,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Yusef Lateef,
Metal Thangz,
Grey Daturas,
Roger Hodgson,
The Move,
These Immortal Souls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Malaria!,
Index,
The Beau Brummels,
the Germs,
Radiohead,
In Retrospect,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Derrick May,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Talk Talk,
Lakeside,
The Moleskins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eurythmics,
Eric Copeland,
Traffic Nightmare,
Groovy Waters,
Ornette Coleman,
Roxy Music,
Thompson Twins,
Scion,
The Music Machine,
10cc,
The Sonics,
Sixth Finger,
a-ha,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
LL Cool J,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Infiniti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Stooges,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.