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 Mongolia and from Bologna.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Copenhagen.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Donny Hathaway,
Infiniti,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kurtis Blow,
Ronnie Foster,
Black Pus,
Quantec,
Mad Mike,
Vladislav Delay,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Offenders,
Siglo XX,
New York Dolls,
Schoolly D,
Massinfluence,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Quadrant,
Rites of Spring,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mission of Burma,
Tim Buckley,
X-101,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ice-T,
Jeff Lynne,
Michelle Simonal,
The Divine Comedy,
Dark Day,
Kaleidoscope,
Mo-Dettes,
Au Pairs,
EPMD,
Rufus Thomas,
Excepter,
The Standells,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lightning Bolt,
Unwound,
ABC,
Barbara Tucker,
Icehouse,
Todd Rundgren,
Johnny Clarke,
The Red Krayola,
Circle Jerks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marmalade,
Ultra Naté,
Sex Pistols,
The Leaves,
MDC,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bad Manners,
Ultravox,
Deepchord,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joe Smooth,
The Fugs,
Youth Brigade,
Davy DMX,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.