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 Andorra and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sight & Sound to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Faust,
Vladislav Delay,
Hot Snakes,
Tres Demented,
PIL,
the Association,
Malaria!,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Nils Olav,
Byron Stingily,
MDC,
John Holt,
Duran Duran,
Stereo Dub,
MC5,
The Leaves,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Cale,
Bobby Byrd,
The Smoke,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jacob Miller,
Johnny Clarke,
Mars,
Livin' Joy,
DJ Sneak,
James White and The Blacks,
The Tremeloes,
Heaven 17,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sister Nancy,
the Slits,
Brothers Johnson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ludus,
EPMD,
Flash Fearless,
The Mojo Men,
Ronan,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Talk Talk,
Angry Samoans,
Laurel Aitken,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerri Chandler,
Visage,
Faraquet,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wire,
Alphaville,
The Selecter,
The Monks,
Fad Gadget,
the Swans,
The Cure,
Nick Fraelich,
Ohio Players,
Dennis Brown,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.