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 Ghana and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Maleditus Sound to the punk 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Faraquet,
Cybotron,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Minny Pops,
Malaria!,
Prince Buster,
Massinfluence,
The Associates,
Sonic Youth,
Roxy Music,
The Alarm Clocks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Oneida,
Royal Trux,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sandy B,
The Invisible,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Radio Birdman,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Smoke,
The Vogues,
Index,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Masters at Work,
La Düsseldorf,
Connie Case,
Liliput,
Deadbeat,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott Heron,
Scott Walker,
Marvin Gaye,
Tears for Fears,
Ice-T,
Symarip,
Pulsallama,
The Kinks,
Slave,
Joey Negro,
Rakim,
Thompson Twins,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barrington Levy,
Patti Smith,
The Happenings,
Surgeon,
Ponytail,
Peter & Gordon,
Magazine,
The Fuzztones,
The Gories,
Aural Exciters,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jawbox,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.