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 Bulgaria and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pole to the punk 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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Trumans Water,
Crooked Eye,
The Last Poets,
Blake Baxter,
Shoche,
48th St. Collective,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pussy Galore,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Model 500,
Steve Hackett,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minnie Riperton,
Morten Harket,
Bad Manners,
Interpol,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gregory Isaacs,
Easy Going,
the Normal,
The Slits,
Matthew Halsall,
Franke,
The Knickerbockers,
Ken Boothe,
Lungfish,
Grauzone,
Pharoah Sanders,
Hashim,
The Techniques,
Amon Düül,
David Bowie,
Throbbing Gristle,
Smog,
the Human League,
Y Pants,
Skriet,
Letta Mbulu,
Sex Pistols,
Loose Ends,
the Sonics,
Wire,
Nico,
Robert Hood,
L. Decosne,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Moleskins,
Boredoms,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Livin' Joy,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cure,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fluxion,
R.M.O.,
The Cramps,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Althea and Donna,
Kaleidoscope,
Flash Fearless,
Accadde A,
OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO, OOIOO.
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.