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 Afghanistan and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 rhodes 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 Letta Mbulu to the punk 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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter and Kerry,
Dennis Brown,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Warren Ellis,
The Pretty Things,
The Searchers,
Supertramp,
Suburban Knight,
The Selecter,
Terry Callier,
Barrington Levy,
F. McDonald,
the Bar-Kays,
Camouflage,
Trumans Water,
The Pop Group,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Avey Tare,
Mark Hollis,
Boz Scaggs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Rosa Yemen,
Barclay James Harvest,
Theoretical Girls,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tears for Fears,
Pet Shop Boys,
B.T. Express,
Amazonics,
Technova,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eric Dolphy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Misunderstood,
The Gladiators,
Mr. Review,
Heaven 17,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Donald Byrd,
Bobby Sherman,
Bang On A Can,
the Human League,
The Raincoats,
Drive Like Jehu,
Steve Hackett,
Neil Young,
Eric Copeland,
Sugar Minott,
Don Cherry,
Lower 48,
The Sonics,
Rakim,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Danielle Patucci,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.