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 Zambia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fluxion,
Blancmange,
Boogie Down Productions,
Laurel Aitken,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bauhaus,
Interpol,
World's Most,
Nik Kershaw,
Organ,
Clear Light,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Neon Judgement,
The Gap Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Cybotron,
The Saints,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brick,
Moby Grape,
Average White Band,
Royal Trux,
The Star Department,
OOIOO,
Hoover,
Rhythm & Sound,
Magma,
Neu!,
Tubeway Army,
Albert Ayler,
Gang Gang Dance,
Masters at Work,
the Soft Cell,
Can,
Spoonie Gee,
Slick Rick,
The Divine Comedy,
Suburban Knight,
Thee Headcoats,
Scratch Acid,
Lyres,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dirtbombs,
Susan Cadogan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Crime,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Au Pairs,
Deakin,
the Human League,
Altered Images,
Mad Mike,
Television,
Ken Boothe,
Alphaville,
Quadrant,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Gong,
Davy DMX,
Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet.
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.