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 Tuvalu and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Roy Ayers to the funk 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Dual Sessions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scan 7,
The Gladiators,
Pierre Henry,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Monks,
The Cramps,
the Swans,
Crispy Ambulance,
Deadbeat,
Tommy Roe,
The New Christs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Piero Umiliani,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
10cc,
Barrington Levy,
The Stooges,
Urselle,
Oblivians,
Terry Callier,
One Last Wish,
Inner City,
Andrew Hill,
Quantec,
Janne Schatter,
The Music Machine,
Lou Christie,
Qualms,
Black Moon,
Con Funk Shun,
Talk Talk,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mo-Dettes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Funky Four + One,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rotary Connection,
The Move,
The Slackers,
Delta 5,
Althea and Donna,
Minutemen,
UT,
Scott Walker,
The Misunderstood,
Flipper,
Ronan,
Warren Ellis,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Swans,
Dead Boys,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nirvana,
It's A Beautiful Day,
CMW,
Slave,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.