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 Romania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ 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 Radio Birdman to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Severed Heads,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The United States of America,
Loose Ends,
the Normal,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scott Walker,
Lakeside,
Ponytail,
Cymande,
The Fall,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skarface,
Mary Jane Girls,
Hardrive,
Goldenarms,
MDC,
These Immortal Souls,
Lightning Bolt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Don Cherry,
Tears for Fears,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Saints,
Country Teasers,
The Last Poets,
PIL,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Reuben Wilson,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Five Americans,
Pantytec,
The Pretty Things,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sparks,
Suicide,
Youth Brigade,
The Dirtbombs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Anakelly,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Slick Rick,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Curtis Mayfield,
A Certain Ratio,
Crooked Eye,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cluster,
Tom Boy,
The American Breed,
The Modern Lovers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
AZ,
Kevin Saunderson,
Soft Machine,
Jeff Mills,
Gabor Szabo,
Morten Harket,
Crime,
Guru Guru,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.