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 Costa Rica and from Hong Kong.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 linndrum 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Don Cherry,
Lou Reed,
Pole,
Robert Wyatt,
John Lydon,
Porter Ricks,
U.S. Maple,
The Martian,
The Cure,
The Happenings,
Cal Tjader,
Sight & Sound,
Malaria!,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pylon,
Adolescents,
Susan Cadogan,
Barbara Tucker,
Boz Scaggs,
Subhumans,
The Fire Engines,
Arthur Verocai,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Siglo XX,
Soft Cell,
Crash Course in Science,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Index,
Dawn Penn,
Hasil Adkins,
Avey Tare,
Half Japanese,
Reuben Wilson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Motorama,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Zeros,
The Grass Roots,
The Buckinghams,
Simply Red,
Graham Central Station,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
X-Ray Spex,
Essential Logic,
Ten City,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Rosa Yemen,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crime,
Black Sheep,
a-ha,
Deakin,
Arcadia,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Modern Lovers,
Khruangbin,
Erykah Badu,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.