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 Morocco and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sixth Finger to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Steve Hackett. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ten City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Anakelly,
Sarah Menescal,
Tommy Roe,
The Wake,
Crooked Eye,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Los Fastidios,
Freddie Wadling,
The Trojans,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Andrew Hill,
Bill Near,
Thompson Twins,
Joyce Sims,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bronski Beat,
Tom Boy,
Altered Images,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Dave Clark Five,
Funkadelic,
Lucky Dragons,
Index,
the Association,
Don Cherry,
X-101,
Ludus,
Ultra Naté,
Unwound,
The Kinks,
Henry Cow,
These Immortal Souls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fortunes,
The Birthday Party,
Duran Duran,
The Slackers,
Nils Olav,
Piero Umiliani,
Bill Wells,
Jeff Lynne,
Scion,
Ornette Coleman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gichy Dan,
The Monks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Moss Icon,
Chris & Cosey,
Audionom,
The Gladiators,
The Gories,
The Slits,
Robert Hood,
Alison Limerick,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.