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 Philippines and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Cairo.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Radiohead to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Bauhaus,
Harmonia,
Bronski Beat,
Kerrie Biddell,
Average White Band,
The Durutti Column,
The Blues Magoos,
Ronan,
Steve Hackett,
Harry Pussy,
Connie Case,
Black Bananas,
The Saints,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
June Days,
Whodini,
X-Ray Spex,
T. Rex,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Pop Group,
Trumans Water,
Boz Scaggs,
Alice Coltrane,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Franke,
Junior Murvin,
Piero Umiliani,
Dead Boys,
Tres Demented,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Joe Finger,
Shoche,
Pussy Galore,
Derrick May,
Sugar Minott,
Marcia Griffiths,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Avey Tare,
The Moleskins,
John Lydon,
Bobby Sherman,
Maurizio,
Graham Central Station,
The Cowsills,
Todd Terry,
Agitation Free,
The Standells,
The Techniques,
Index,
Popol Vuh,
Masters at Work,
Niagra,
Tomorrow,
Funky Four + One,
Mad Mike,
Easy Going,
Quando Quango,
Skaos,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.