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 Solomon Islands and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Joey Negro to the jazz 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 New Order. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hasil Adkins 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?
Lightning Bolt,
Simply Red,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Wake,
The Toasters,
Masters at Work,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Amon Düül,
Suicide,
Hot Snakes,
Amon Düül II,
Sam Rivers,
Sugar Minott,
John Coltrane,
John Foxx,
Monolake,
Zapp,
Bronski Beat,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rapeman,
Arcadia,
the Swans,
Bobby Womack,
Archie Shepp,
David McCallum,
Flipper,
Japan,
Roxette,
Kerri Chandler,
Magma,
Ludus,
June Days,
Stereo Dub,
JFA,
Bush Tetras,
Blossom Toes,
Lower 48,
Organ,
Spandau Ballet,
Marc Almond,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Letta Mbulu,
Prince Buster,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Moon,
Rod Modell,
The Trojans,
Vladislav Delay,
Eden Ahbez,
Eddi Front,
The Saints,
Morten Harket,
Soft Cell,
Blake Baxter,
Severed Heads,
The Music Machine,
Drexciya,
The Motions,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-102,
The Fortunes,
Icehouse,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.