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 Niger and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Whodini,
Connie Case,
John Holt,
Pere Ubu,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Kenny Larkin,
The Seeds,
Nirvana,
ABC,
Freddie Wadling,
Camouflage,
Dave Gahan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Cluster,
Ponytail,
Godley & Creme,
Steve Hackett,
Wolf Eyes,
Severed Heads,
Organ,
Minor Threat,
The Modern Lovers,
Bauhaus,
Zapp,
Symarip,
Sandy B,
Johnny Osbourne,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sugar Minott,
Ornette Coleman,
Stereo Dub,
Radiopuhelimet,
Television Personalities,
Johnny Clarke,
Faraquet,
Robert Hood,
Marcia Griffiths,
Stetsasonic,
The Tremeloes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Au Pairs,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric Copeland,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pussy Galore,
cv313,
The Leaves,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Babytalk,
Rekid,
The Stooges,
Bill Near,
Isaac Hayes,
The Techniques,
Quantec,
Dawn Penn,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.