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 Botswana and from Columbus.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 A Certain Ratio to the rock 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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
Tears for Fears,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Bananas,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Dawn Penn,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jeff Mills,
Unwound,
Todd Rundgren,
The Happenings,
Visage,
Arab on Radar,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Camberwell Now,
The Wake,
Index,
Los Fastidios,
Trumans Water,
Maurizio,
Duran Duran,
Derrick May,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Freddie Wadling,
Peter and Kerry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Aloha Tigers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Harry Pussy,
Alton Ellis,
KRS-One,
Interpol,
Matthew Bourne,
Henry Cow,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Grauzone,
Robert Wyatt,
Aswad,
Faust,
the Soft Cell,
The Real Kids,
Isaac Hayes,
Bill Near,
Pierre Henry,
Janne Schatter,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wire,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Althea and Donna,
The Saints,
The Moody Blues,
A Certain Ratio,
The Music Machine,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Andrew Hill,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ten City,
The Slackers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bauhaus,
Surgeon,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.