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 Niger and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Bootsy Collins to the dance 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Invisible,
T. Rex,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Average White Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sight & Sound,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Vogues,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lalo Schifrin,
Wings,
Guru Guru,
Pantaleimon,
Joey Negro,
Oblivians,
Erasure,
The Sound,
Morten Harket,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lou Christie,
Surgeon,
Young Marble Giants,
Sparks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eden Ahbez,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pussy Galore,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Last Poets,
Sandy B,
Sun City Girls,
Soul Sonic Force,
Make Up,
Mo-Dettes,
The Slits,
Kerrie Biddell,
Motorama,
Agent Orange,
The American Breed,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Monks,
Metal Thangz,
The Happenings,
Sugar Minott,
Spandau Ballet,
Barry Ungar,
Babytalk,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Bizarre Inc.,
Boz Scaggs,
Ituana,
Aural Exciters,
EPMD,
June Days,
Crash Course in Science,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.