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 Chad and from Bremen.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Howard Jones to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Gabor Szabo,
This Heat,
Kurtis Blow,
Rites of Spring,
Agent Orange,
The Star Department,
10cc,
Shoche,
The Blackbyrds,
Whodini,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Blake Baxter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Mojo Men,
Trumans Water,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Basic Channel,
Khruangbin,
Pantytec,
Peter & Gordon,
Laurel Aitken,
Mad Mike,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rapeman,
Arthur Verocai,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Joe Finger,
David Bowie,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Brothers Johnson,
Rotary Connection,
Zapp,
Yellowson,
Tears for Fears,
Yaz,
Warsaw,
Harmonia,
Model 500,
Technova,
Marc Almond,
Funkadelic,
Jacques Brel,
China Crisis,
The Cramps,
AZ,
Eurythmics,
Simply Red,
Todd Terry,
Guru Guru,
The Selecter,
Accadde A,
Juan Atkins,
Chrome,
Intrusion,
The Fire Engines,
a-ha,
Audionom,
Leonard Cohen,
Lower 48,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.