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 Azerbaijan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 Ornette Coleman to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
PIL,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fad Gadget,
Black Moon,
Sister Nancy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Iggy Pop,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Depeche Mode,
The Moleskins,
Wally Richardson,
Mars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Newcleus,
The Mummies,
Junior Murvin,
the Swans,
Kaleidoscope,
Angry Samoans,
Alice Coltrane,
Tom Boy,
Rekid,
Grey Daturas,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The American Breed,
Charles Mingus,
Steve Hackett,
The Sonics,
Buzzcocks,
U.S. Maple,
Pagans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Roger Hodgson,
Cheater Slicks,
Sparks,
The Velvet Underground,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
ABBA,
The Young Rascals,
The Star Department,
Nico,
The Toasters,
Rufus Thomas,
Janne Schatter,
The Fugs,
JFA,
Severed Heads,
The Detroit Cobras,
Peter & Gordon,
Scott Walker,
Jandek,
Peter and Kerry,
Black Bananas,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lower 48,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rosa Yemen,
Gerry Rafferty,
David McCallum,
The Techniques,
Second Layer,
The Fire Engines,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.