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 Afghanistan and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 güiro 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the rap 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 The Vogues. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Livin' Joy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Cameo,
Marcia Griffiths,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Soft Cell,
Soulsonic Force,
Ponytail,
Pylon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Brick,
Malaria!,
Y Pants,
the Bar-Kays,
Icehouse,
The Young Rascals,
Dual Sessions,
CMW,
Roxy Music,
James White and The Blacks,
The Barracudas,
Sugar Minott,
Brothers Johnson,
Japan,
Tubeway Army,
Dead Boys,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Toni Rubio,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sexual Harrassment,
Blossom Toes,
The Evens,
Danielle Patucci,
Amon Düül,
48th St. Collective,
Gil Scott Heron,
Unwound,
Scion,
Schoolly D,
Roger Hodgson,
Mo-Dettes,
Crooked Eye,
Laurel Aitken,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeff Lynne,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lou Christie,
The Monks,
UT,
Marmalade,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gang of Four,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Angels of Light,
Whodini,
Nas,
Cymande,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jeru the Damaja,
DNA,
The Sound,
The Fall,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.