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 Oman and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Intrusion to the jazz 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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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?
The Cure,
Ludus,
Hoover,
Funkadelic,
Yellowson,
Absolute Body Control,
The Litter,
Alton Ellis,
Monks,
Wings,
Outsiders,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ten City,
Marine Girls,
The Raincoats,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Standells,
Erykah Badu,
Theoretical Girls,
Aloha Tigers,
Technova,
Ronan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lou Christie,
Bronski Beat,
The Saints,
Section 25,
Minutemen,
Oblivians,
The Offenders,
H. Thieme,
The J.B.'s,
Chris Corsano,
Godley & Creme,
Flipper,
Accadde A,
Archie Shepp,
Kas Product,
Peter and Kerry,
Jerry's Kids,
Kurtis Blow,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Deadbeat,
CMW,
New Order,
The Angels of Light,
The Fugs,
Model 500,
Pantytec,
Electric Prunes,
the Normal,
The Misunderstood,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lyres,
Fear,
Excepter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Howard Jones,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scan 7,
The Human League,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.