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 Grenada and from Seoul.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet 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 Mo-Dettes to the jazz 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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
Franke,
Dawn Penn,
The Barracudas,
Excepter,
Nirvana,
Adolescents,
the Human League,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Normal,
Skaos,
The Moody Blues,
Index,
The Divine Comedy,
Warren Ellis,
Television,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bootsy Collins,
The Seeds,
Tubeway Army,
Sun Ra,
Barrington Levy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Livin' Joy,
Amon Düül II,
Marine Girls,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spoonie Gee,
The Angels of Light,
Con Funk Shun,
Tropical Tobacco,
Soul II Soul,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Michelle Simonal,
JFA,
Joe Finger,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
Dennis Brown,
The Dead C,
UT,
The Misunderstood,
EPMD,
Lalo Schifrin,
Little Man,
Scion,
Gang of Four,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bill Near,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cybotron,
Camouflage,
David Bowie,
The Five Americans,
The Modern Lovers,
Nico,
Cheater Slicks,
The Fuzztones,
Idris Muhammad,
Mark Hollis,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.