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 Netherlands and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Moleskins to the grunge 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 Judy Mowatt. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David McCallum,
Fear,
Severed Heads,
Ten City,
Darondo,
Roger Hodgson,
Tom Boy,
The American Breed,
Andrew Hill,
The Fortunes,
Mark Hollis,
Rufus Thomas,
Deepchord,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tropical Tobacco,
Janne Schatter,
June Days,
The Count Five,
The Sound,
Moss Icon,
Terry Callier,
Negative Approach,
Sandy B,
Ronan,
The Smiths,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Fall,
the Sonics,
Kas Product,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sex Pistols,
Ken Boothe,
A Certain Ratio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ludus,
The Skatalites,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Absolute Body Control,
The New Christs,
World's Most,
Sonic Youth,
La Düsseldorf,
Sister Nancy,
Gichy Dan,
Masters at Work,
Whodini,
Wasted Youth,
a-ha,
ABC,
the Soft Cell,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radiohead,
Sixth Finger,
The Dirtbombs,
Hot Snakes,
Symarip,
Fluxion,
Reuben Wilson,
Dave Gahan,
AZ,
Camberwell Now,
The Kinks,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.