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 Togo and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Slits to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Intrusion,
Gregory Isaacs,
Brick,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
David McCallum,
Arab on Radar,
Bobby Womack,
Deakin,
Faust,
The Pretty Things,
The Smoke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wings,
Roy Ayers,
Blossom Toes,
The Evens,
Ultra Naté,
Swans,
Qualms,
Mandrill,
The Black Dice,
Bobby Sherman,
Roxy Music,
Angry Samoans,
Tears for Fears,
The Misunderstood,
Bad Manners,
Alison Limerick,
Technova,
Liliput,
Nik Kershaw,
Matthew Halsall,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ludus,
Max Romeo,
UT,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tommy Roe,
the Germs,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Fuzztones,
Wolf Eyes,
Brass Construction,
Goldenarms,
Urselle,
Cal Tjader,
Minnie Riperton,
Moby Grape,
Mr. Review,
Colin Newman,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roger Hodgson,
The Kinks,
Moebius,
Little Man,
Gong,
A Certain Ratio,
Lakeside,
Monolake,
Mantronix,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.