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 Nicaragua and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Boredoms to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Matthew Bourne,
The Gun Club,
Moebius,
Ossler,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Patti Smith,
Severed Heads,
D'Angelo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Blossom Toes,
Brothers Johnson,
T. Rex,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Robert Görl,
Idris Muhammad,
Pierre Henry,
Magma,
Andrew Hill,
Alison Limerick,
Sparks,
Pagans,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Altered Images,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Television,
a-ha,
Sun Ra,
Lee Hazlewood,
Spandau Ballet,
Wire,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Tremeloes,
Au Pairs,
Thee Headcoats,
Iggy Pop,
Tommy Roe,
The Zeros,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eve St. Jones,
Amazonics,
Gang of Four,
Sound Behaviour,
Yazoo,
Warren Ellis,
KRS-One,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Quando Quango,
Duran Duran,
John Holt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lalann,
Robert Hood,
Barry Ungar,
Eric B and Rakim,
The United States of America,
Boz Scaggs,
The Fugs,
The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group, The Pop Group.
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.