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 Belgium and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Heaven 17 to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxette,
China Crisis,
Yaz,
Inner City,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Urselle,
Radio Birdman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ken Boothe,
Excepter,
Bauhaus,
Brothers Johnson,
Erasure,
Reagan Youth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bronski Beat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultravox,
Model 500,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Raincoats,
Groovy Waters,
Delta 5,
Al Stewart,
Little Man,
Ohio Players,
CMW,
Kayak,
Erykah Badu,
John Foxx,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fluxion,
Sound Behaviour,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
June Days,
The Modern Lovers,
Yellowson,
Angry Samoans,
Stiv Bators,
Rotary Connection,
Junior Murvin,
The Music Machine,
Echospace,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Camouflage,
John Lydon,
Kas Product,
Albert Ayler,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gerry Rafferty,
David Axelrod,
Eddi Front,
Steve Hackett,
The Monks,
Nas,
PIL,
Scan 7,
Gichy Dan,
Connie Case,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.