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 Liechtenstein and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sound Behaviour to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Isaac Hayes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '80s.
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 Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Starr,
In Retrospect,
The Cowsills,
Reuben Wilson,
JFA,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
Shoche,
Visage,
Schoolly D,
Bronski Beat,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Maleditus Sound,
The Evens,
The Star Department,
Soft Cell,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Moody Blues,
The Fugs,
Laurel Aitken,
Mars,
Fad Gadget,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Easy Going,
Roger Hodgson,
The Gories,
Severed Heads,
Rosa Yemen,
Lindisfarne,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ohio Players,
ABBA,
Bauhaus,
Tomorrow,
Hashim,
Bootsy Collins,
F. McDonald,
Harry Pussy,
Goldenarms,
The Motions,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sight & Sound,
Yellowson,
Lyres,
Supertramp,
Andrew Hill,
Eden Ahbez,
KRS-One,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cal Tjader,
Amon Düül II,
Gang Green,
Fat Boys,
Smog,
The Fortunes,
Youth Brigade,
Mark Hollis,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Intrusion,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.