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 Tajikistan and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gichy Dan to the rock 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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All Lindisfarne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Cure,
Juan Atkins,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
H. Thieme,
Grauzone,
Urselle,
Ponytail,
Pussy Galore,
David McCallum,
Reagan Youth,
Jacques Brel,
The Litter,
Fear,
the Sonics,
Cheater Slicks,
the Bar-Kays,
Ornette Coleman,
Rites of Spring,
Metal Thangz,
Clear Light,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
FM Einheit,
The Five Americans,
Al Stewart,
Big Daddy Kane,
Camberwell Now,
Ituana,
The Walker Brothers,
Albert Ayler,
Black Moon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Grey Daturas,
Sonny Sharrock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Oblivians,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Intrusion,
Country Teasers,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scott Walker,
Buzzcocks,
The Cramps,
Bill Wells,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Malaria!,
The Associates,
The Stooges,
Colin Newman,
Technova,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Symarip,
Boz Scaggs,
Warsaw,
Peter and Kerry,
Tim Buckley,
Altered Images,
The Selecter,
Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.