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 Senegal and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Michelle Simonal to the crunk 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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Slave,
The Misunderstood,
Steve Hackett,
the Human League,
cv313,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vainqueur,
The Grass Roots,
Minutemen,
Sixth Finger,
China Crisis,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Intrusion,
Q65,
Henry Cow,
Aural Exciters,
Tomorrow,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Byron Stingily,
Rekid,
Pussy Galore,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nas,
Funky Four + One,
Max Romeo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Camouflage,
Hardrive,
Sugar Minott,
Archie Shepp,
Jeru the Damaja,
KRS-One,
Youth Brigade,
Talk Talk,
Index,
Pole,
Patti Smith,
The Offenders,
Guru Guru,
The Remains,
Throbbing Gristle,
Faraquet,
In Retrospect,
Supertramp,
Tears for Fears,
L. Decosne,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ten City,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Star Department,
Technova,
Bobby Womack,
Unwound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Audionom,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultravox,
James White and The Blacks,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.