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 Sri Lanka and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 theremin 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 the Soft Cell to the dance 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Amon Düül,
The Leaves,
ABBA,
Wally Richardson,
Half Japanese,
Yellowson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Moon,
David McCallum,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boredoms,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Walker Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
Yaz,
the Slits,
Minny Pops,
Don Cherry,
Spoonie Gee,
Thompson Twins,
Carl Craig,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Monks,
Arcadia,
Boz Scaggs,
The Busters,
Glenn Branca,
Deadbeat,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Colin Newman,
The Fortunes,
Accadde A,
Shuggie Otis,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Kinks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Saints,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eddi Front,
Jeru the Damaja,
Buzzcocks,
Barry Ungar,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Flesh Eaters,
Cluster,
kango's stein massive,
Symarip,
The Toasters,
Wire,
Black Bananas,
The Standells,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gastr Del Sol,
CMW,
Swell Maps,
Freddie Wadling,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobby Byrd,
Slick Rick,
The Wake,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.