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 Botswana and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ultimate Spinach to the rock 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
Television,
Joensuu 1685,
Wolf Eyes,
Talk Talk,
One Last Wish,
Arcadia,
Jeff Lynne,
The Saints,
Suicide,
Sarah Menescal,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neil Young,
Peter and Kerry,
Marc Almond,
Black Sheep,
Hardrive,
10cc,
Henry Cow,
Todd Rundgren,
Bobbi Humphrey,
David Axelrod,
World's Most,
Charles Mingus,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Donny Hathaway,
The Beau Brummels,
Sam Rivers,
Alton Ellis,
Sandy B,
the Association,
Harmonia,
David McCallum,
Danielle Patucci,
Moebius,
The Gories,
Mantronix,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ossler,
Bob Dylan,
Lindisfarne,
A Certain Ratio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Altered Images,
Mark Hollis,
Echospace,
Mr. Review,
The Wake,
Sparks,
Sun Ra,
Roxy Music,
Duran Duran,
Deadbeat,
The Electric Prunes,
Camouflage,
Little Man,
Fugazi,
Jeff Mills,
Todd Terry,
Accadde A,
The J.B.'s,
Tom Boy,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.