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 Eritrea and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 oboe 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 Barclay James Harvest to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Banda Bassotti,
Maleditus Sound,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nirvana,
Bronski Beat,
Brass Construction,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Litter,
Underground Resistance,
Stereo Dub,
Harpers Bizarre,
Throbbing Gristle,
One Last Wish,
The Divine Comedy,
Jeff Lynne,
Darondo,
the Normal,
X-101,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cure,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Suicide,
The Durutti Column,
Brick,
Judy Mowatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
48th St. Collective,
John Cale,
The Red Krayola,
Soft Cell,
Derrick May,
Bill Near,
Roy Ayers,
Neil Young,
Danielle Patucci,
Bootsy Collins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Black Sheep,
The Move,
Bluetip,
Crooked Eye,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Monochrome Set,
Moebius,
Neu!,
Todd Rundgren,
Eurythmics,
The J.B.'s,
Organ,
The Sound,
Das Ding,
Newcleus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Blues Magoos,
Liliput,
The Cramps,
Television,
The Human League,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes, Blossom Toes.
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.