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 Korea South and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Radiopuhelimet to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Flash Fearless. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Rakim,
Television,
a-ha,
Mars,
The Red Krayola,
Little Man,
Vainqueur,
Nas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Coltrane,
Alphaville,
Unrelated Segments,
The Five Americans,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Joe Smooth,
The Young Rascals,
Henry Cow,
Ronnie Foster,
The Victims,
Mandrill,
Roger Hodgson,
Echospace,
Qualms,
Maleditus Sound,
Tomorrow,
Crispian St. Peters,
Cheater Slicks,
The Saints,
The Smiths,
Shuggie Otis,
La Düsseldorf,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Anakelly,
Con Funk Shun,
Funky Four + One,
The Trojans,
Ice-T,
10cc,
Intrusion,
Tears for Fears,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Normal,
In Retrospect,
Jacques Brel,
Marc Almond,
The Stooges,
Don Cherry,
Sandy B,
Erykah Badu,
Quadrant,
The J.B.'s,
Michelle Simonal,
Leonard Cohen,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fat Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Human League,
Al Stewart,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.