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 Zambia and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 harpsichord 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 Motorama to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Doors. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
Country Teasers,
Sandy B,
the Slits,
Outsiders,
Tears for Fears,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alice Coltrane,
Electric Prunes,
Nico,
Joe Finger,
The Sonics,
Black Bananas,
MC5,
Subhumans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Babytalk,
Cheater Slicks,
Graham Central Station,
U.S. Maple,
Magma,
48th St. Collective,
The Residents,
Sparks,
X-102,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nick Fraelich,
Nation of Ulysses,
Interpol,
Jeff Mills,
Soul II Soul,
Patti Smith,
Crispian St. Peters,
La Düsseldorf,
Don Cherry,
The Red Krayola,
Kurtis Blow,
The Real Kids,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Leonard Cohen,
Talk Talk,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Max Romeo,
Eurythmics,
The Alarm Clocks,
Zero Boys,
Public Enemy,
Deakin,
Ituana,
Jesper Dahlback,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Johnny Clarke,
These Immortal Souls,
Sugar Minott,
Nik Kershaw,
Delta 5,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.