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 Micronesia and from Tokyo.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 X-Ray Spex to the techno 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Symarip,
In Retrospect,
Quando Quango,
Junior Murvin,
Cecil Taylor,
Angry Samoans,
Au Pairs,
Dark Day,
Eric Dolphy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Royal Trux,
Maurizio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Shoche,
Crooked Eye,
Negative Approach,
Robert Görl,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Los Fastidios,
Inner City,
The Slackers,
Depeche Mode,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sonic Youth,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Sonics,
The Zeros,
Unwound,
Max Romeo,
The Fugs,
The Smoke,
Lalann,
The Motions,
kango's stein massive,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Little Man,
Derrick Morgan,
Charles Mingus,
The Sonics,
MDC,
Joey Negro,
Carl Craig,
Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
Rakim,
Mr. Review,
Johnny Clarke,
Sam Rivers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Colin Newman,
Icehouse,
Fela Kuti,
Pantytec,
Sex Pistols,
The Last Poets,
Bronski Beat,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Cowsills,
Traffic Nightmare,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.