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 Montenegro and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Robert Palmer 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 48th St. Collective to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Goldenarms,
The American Breed,
Youth Brigade,
Sixth Finger,
Yellowson,
Tubeway Army,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fear,
Cybotron,
Joensuu 1685,
Section 25,
The Evens,
Eurythmics,
The Wake,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Howard Jones,
Alton Ellis,
Terrestrial Tones,
Letta Mbulu,
Bobby Sherman,
the Sonics,
Arab on Radar,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Swans,
The Remains,
Index,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Busters,
Steve Hackett,
Mo-Dettes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sound Behaviour,
Loose Ends,
Absolute Body Control,
Kevin Saunderson,
Leonard Cohen,
The Associates,
Drexciya,
Can,
Minny Pops,
La Düsseldorf,
Bush Tetras,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Barracudas,
Roxy Music,
The Sonics,
Pulsallama,
World's Most,
Man Parrish,
Radiohead,
FM Einheit,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pylon,
Television Personalities,
Soft Machine,
Lou Reed,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.