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 Zimbabwe and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 Matthew Bourne to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Severed Heads,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Remains,
Ossler,
Neu!,
The Last Poets,
Warsaw,
Jacob Miller,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rakim,
Tom Boy,
Wally Richardson,
The Saints,
Blake Baxter,
The Monochrome Set,
Scan 7,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ultravox,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Reagan Youth,
Cymande,
Joey Negro,
Pylon,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kerrie Biddell,
Simply Red,
Andrew Hill,
Black Bananas,
Warren Ellis,
The Fortunes,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Tomorrow,
Kurtis Blow,
OOIOO,
The Cowsills,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Evens,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Barracudas,
Brothers Johnson,
A Certain Ratio,
Arab on Radar,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Urselle,
Wolf Eyes,
UT,
Pet Shop Boys,
Maleditus Sound,
Slave,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Terrestrial Tones,
Flash Fearless,
Barbara Tucker,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kas Product,
Guru Guru,
Max Romeo,
The Vogues,
Agent Orange,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.