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 Armenia and from Tokyo.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Cluster to the electroclash 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 Terry Callier. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Smooth,
The Pretty Things,
Swans,
The Fortunes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Techniques,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Monochrome Set,
Byron Stingily,
Gang Starr,
Outsiders,
Nirvana,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Erasure,
Underground Resistance,
Buzzcocks,
Au Pairs,
Donald Byrd,
Zapp,
Das Ding,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Alice Coltrane,
Amazonics,
The Smiths,
The Alarm Clocks,
Smog,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Harry Pussy,
Index,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Hashim,
Minutemen,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rosa Yemen,
T. Rex,
Simply Red,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Supertramp,
The Golliwogs,
Fad Gadget,
John Cale,
In Retrospect,
Joe Finger,
The Cosmic Jokers,
China Crisis,
The Mummies,
The Blues Magoos,
Oblivians,
Pussy Galore,
Arab on Radar,
Bill Wells,
Drive Like Jehu,
Massinfluence,
The Happenings,
Skaos,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
June Days,
Matthew Bourne,
Nico,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.