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 Ghana and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the oboe 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Associates record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Panda Bear,
The Pop Group,
Arthur Verocai,
The Selecter,
Bill Wells,
Amon Düül,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Chris & Cosey,
Brass Construction,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Japan,
Quantec,
Howard Jones,
Frankie Knuckles,
New Order,
Sandy B,
The Birthday Party,
ABC,
Stetsasonic,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Maurizio,
Magma,
Pussy Galore,
Cheater Slicks,
Hasil Adkins,
Terry Callier,
Judy Mowatt,
Dead Boys,
Motorama,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Victims,
Dennis Brown,
Television Personalities,
Thompson Twins,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Blackbyrds,
Nico,
China Crisis,
The Young Rascals,
The Walker Brothers,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Procol Harum,
Animal Collective,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Moon,
Saccharine Trust,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Susan Cadogan,
Eurythmics,
Mantronix,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Nation of Ulysses,
Tres Demented,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.