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 Antigua and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro 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 Rakim to the dance 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Youth Brigade,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sonny Sharrock,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Soft Cell,
Sugar Minott,
China Crisis,
Harry Pussy,
The Mojo Men,
Kayak,
Robert Hood,
Joy Division,
LL Cool J,
Jeff Lynne,
Scrapy,
Tim Buckley,
Trumans Water,
Erykah Badu,
Black Sheep,
Bill Wells,
Surgeon,
Moss Icon,
Albert Ayler,
The Evens,
Quantec,
Infiniti,
The Dave Clark Five,
Make Up,
Slave,
John Coltrane,
K-Klass,
The Fuzztones,
The United States of America,
Sixth Finger,
The Cure,
Gong,
Eden Ahbez,
The Remains,
Alison Limerick,
Howard Jones,
John Cale,
The Associates,
Dead Boys,
Spoonie Gee,
Index,
The Human League,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pole,
Tears for Fears,
Guru Guru,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Cramps,
Supertramp,
The Golliwogs,
Tommy Roe,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bauhaus,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.