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 Libya and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
Piero Umiliani,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Knickerbockers,
Slave,
Rod Modell,
Terry Callier,
Joy Division,
Mars,
Johnny Clarke,
Mad Mike,
The Real Kids,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Cal Tjader,
Easy Going,
Angry Samoans,
the Human League,
Soft Cell,
The Victims,
Spandau Ballet,
The Busters,
Al Stewart,
Chrome,
Crooked Eye,
Avey Tare,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sonic Youth,
Chris Corsano,
The Birthday Party,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Quando Quango,
Mark Hollis,
John Holt,
New Order,
The Last Poets,
The Sisters of Mercy,
In Retrospect,
Model 500,
Can,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Blancmange,
Robert Hood,
Swell Maps,
Crispy Ambulance,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Severed Heads,
The Cramps,
Adolescents,
The Smiths,
Albert Ayler,
Pussy Galore,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Smoke,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ten City,
The Happenings,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Selecter,
Youth Brigade,
Bad Manners,
The Gun Club,
Traffic Nightmare,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.