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 Guinea-Bissau and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Wire to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Lydon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
D'Angelo,
Parry Music,
Make Up,
These Immortal Souls,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Minutemen,
Echospace,
The Monks,
Rekid,
Ponytail,
The Fortunes,
Smog,
Charles Mingus,
Lungfish,
The Blues Magoos,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sexual Harrassment,
A Flock of Seagulls,
MDC,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dennis Brown,
Mad Mike,
The Golliwogs,
Robert Hood,
Mr. Review,
Trumans Water,
Slick Rick,
Eve St. Jones,
The Invisible,
Isaac Hayes,
Adolescents,
Dorothy Ashby,
Amon Düül,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Oneida,
Swans,
Suicide,
Lou Christie,
H. Thieme,
Jacques Brel,
Sonny Sharrock,
Panda Bear,
Quantec,
Tubeway Army,
The Human League,
Barrington Levy,
Con Funk Shun,
Subhumans,
Agent Orange,
Faust,
Jeru the Damaja,
Erykah Badu,
Aural Exciters,
Neil Young,
The Selecter,
Das Ding,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
F. McDonald,
Carl Craig,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.