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 Latvia and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar 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 Visage to the techno 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes 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 Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flipper,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Freddie Wadling,
The Knickerbockers,
Carl Craig,
Mary Jane Girls,
Man Eating Sloth,
David McCallum,
Index,
Scratch Acid,
The Index,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Invisible,
Jandek,
Oneida,
The Sound,
Jacques Brel,
Ituana,
Model 500,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Todd Rundgren,
Suburban Knight,
Motorama,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hasil Adkins,
Godley & Creme,
Dawn Penn,
Stereo Dub,
DNA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Magma,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Toasters,
Funkadelic,
Joe Finger,
Johnny Osbourne,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Isaac Hayes,
The Raincoats,
Saccharine Trust,
The Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
Whodini,
Mantronix,
Avey Tare,
Can,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Negative Approach,
Parry Music,
Stiv Bators,
Al Stewart,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kenny Larkin,
Inner City,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.