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 Portugal and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thee Headcoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Steve Hackett,
The Fortunes,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Vogues,
Max Romeo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mission of Burma,
The J.B.'s,
Tres Demented,
Theoretical Girls,
Charles Mingus,
Alton Ellis,
The Gap Band,
The Electric Prunes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Warren Ellis,
Throbbing Gristle,
Roger Hodgson,
Los Fastidios,
Kerrie Biddell,
E-Dancer,
Wings,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rekid,
Marshall Jefferson,
Vladislav Delay,
Tubeway Army,
Cheater Slicks,
Nas,
Eurythmics,
Blossom Toes,
Dave Gahan,
Model 500,
The Five Americans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Christie,
Scan 7,
Severed Heads,
Alphaville,
Flipper,
Althea and Donna,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Smog,
Nick Fraelich,
Don Cherry,
The Fugs,
The Tremeloes,
Stiv Bators,
The Cramps,
Index,
K-Klass,
Porter Ricks,
James White and The Blacks,
The Star Department,
The Names,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.