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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pantytec to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Machine,
Jacob Miller,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Divine Comedy,
Joensuu 1685,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ponytail,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Count Five,
Amazonics,
Nico,
Fad Gadget,
Traffic Nightmare,
Freddie Wadling,
Country Teasers,
Bill Near,
The Mummies,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Con Funk Shun,
Carl Craig,
Rapeman,
Deadbeat,
The Monks,
Cluster,
Alison Limerick,
10cc,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stiv Bators,
Man Parrish,
Scrapy,
Eve St. Jones,
Marine Girls,
Fear,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Aswad,
Tommy Roe,
The Doors,
The Buckinghams,
Brand Nubian,
Joyce Sims,
Can,
Ultra Naté,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brick,
Supertramp,
Derrick Morgan,
Reuben Wilson,
The Raincoats,
Harry Pussy,
Pole,
The Durutti Column,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bad Manners,
Severed Heads,
Hashim,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Simply Red,
Robert Hood,
Schoolly D,
The Smoke,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.