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 Kiribati and from Accra.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Human League to the grunge 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Raincoats,
Lyres,
Guru Guru,
The Cure,
Model 500,
Roy Ayers,
Pierre Henry,
Matthew Halsall,
Motorama,
Kas Product,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gories,
Brick,
Gastr Del Sol,
Blake Baxter,
Excepter,
Mo-Dettes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Man Eating Sloth,
Warren Ellis,
Hashim,
China Crisis,
The Happenings,
Absolute Body Control,
Neu!,
Hardrive,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
10cc,
Livin' Joy,
The Tremeloes,
Massinfluence,
Max Romeo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Grandmaster Flash,
Grey Daturas,
Yazoo,
Monks,
Niagra,
Morten Harket,
Soft Cell,
U.S. Maple,
Tom Boy,
Howard Jones,
The Names,
The Neon Judgement,
the Association,
Underground Resistance,
Von Mondo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fire Engines,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quadrant,
Tres Demented,
Khruangbin,
Audionom,
Kevin Saunderson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Make Up,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.