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 Switzerland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Max Romeo to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
In Retrospect,
48th St. Collective,
Shoche,
CMW,
Technova,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Velvet Underground,
the Swans,
Wally Richardson,
Quando Quango,
John Holt,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Camouflage,
Gang Gang Dance,
Erasure,
Scan 7,
The Star Department,
Khruangbin,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Boredoms,
Donald Byrd,
The Black Dice,
Moss Icon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Yusef Lateef,
Infiniti,
Eden Ahbez,
Deepchord,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sonic Youth,
Slick Rick,
Radiohead,
the Human League,
Bang On A Can,
Funky Four + One,
Gang of Four,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chrome,
Skaos,
The Smoke,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Stooges,
Sugar Minott,
Gang Starr,
Procol Harum,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Moon,
Letta Mbulu,
Pharoah Sanders,
Thee Headcoats,
The Martian,
Underground Resistance,
La Düsseldorf,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs, Gregory Isaacs.
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.