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 Uzbekistan and from Beijing.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba 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 8 Eyed Spy to the jazz 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lucky Dragons,
Mission of Burma,
The Grass Roots,
Black Bananas,
Sister Nancy,
Von Mondo,
Gang of Four,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smoke,
Avey Tare,
the Normal,
Wolf Eyes,
John Lydon,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jawbox,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
H. Thieme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ossler,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Harmonia,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Zapp,
Icehouse,
Model 500,
The Young Rascals,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rhythm & Sound,
New Age Steppers,
DJ Style,
Sound Behaviour,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Public Enemy,
The Trojans,
Jerry's Kids,
The Knickerbockers,
The Vogues,
The Raincoats,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Litter,
Matthew Bourne,
Lalo Schifrin,
Spandau Ballet,
Warren Ellis,
Ronnie Foster,
Malaria!,
Sight & Sound,
10cc,
The Star Department,
Iggy Pop,
Bad Manners,
June Days,
Wally Richardson,
Japan,
Alison Limerick,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donny Hathaway,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sun Ra,
Audionom,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.