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 Sudan and from Seoul.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron 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 The Kinks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
Soft Machine,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Standells,
Dead Boys,
Outsiders,
Dorothy Ashby,
ABBA,
Basic Channel,
Peter and Kerry,
Bang On A Can,
Mars,
The New Christs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Symarip,
World's Most,
Boredoms,
The Sound,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Severed Heads,
Deakin,
Jesper Dahlback,
New York Dolls,
Con Funk Shun,
Byron Stingily,
Lucky Dragons,
Bill Near,
Cybotron,
Mark Hollis,
The Star Department,
kango's stein massive,
KRS-One,
Marc Almond,
Motorama,
Crime,
Lightning Bolt,
Graham Central Station,
Icehouse,
Mission of Burma,
Alphaville,
Roy Ayers,
Young Marble Giants,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pantytec,
Jeff Lynne,
Isaac Hayes,
Man Parrish,
Minutemen,
Kayak,
JFA,
Absolute Body Control,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Offenders,
Max Romeo,
DJ Style,
Idris Muhammad,
Dual Sessions,
Iggy Pop,
The Vogues,
Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players, Ohio Players.
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.