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 Gabon and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Danielle Patucci to the jazz 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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All Crime tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Associates record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Nirvana,
Joyce Sims,
Barrington Levy,
The Barracudas,
Aswad,
Patti Smith,
These Immortal Souls,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ronan,
June of 44,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eric Copeland,
Das Ding,
Traffic Nightmare,
Stiv Bators,
John Holt,
Byron Stingily,
T. Rex,
Blossom Toes,
Connie Case,
The Trojans,
Supertramp,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fluxion,
KRS-One,
Section 25,
Eurythmics,
Crispian St. Peters,
James White and The Blacks,
Kenny Larkin,
Urselle,
Albert Ayler,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eve St. Jones,
Susan Cadogan,
Sister Nancy,
Tomorrow,
Dawn Penn,
Bad Manners,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Alarm Clocks,
Symarip,
PIL,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Audionom,
Monks,
Ultravox,
The Searchers,
Zapp,
Joensuu 1685,
Gichy Dan,
Unwound,
The Seeds,
Wire,
Faust,
T.S.O.L.,
Qualms,
Marcia Griffiths,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.