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 Dominica and from Lagos.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and London.
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 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Harmonia to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Max Romeo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Names,
Jeff Lynne,
Ice-T,
Iggy Pop,
T. Rex,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pussy Galore,
Barry Ungar,
Bad Manners,
B.T. Express,
The Residents,
Yellowson,
The Real Kids,
John Lydon,
Visage,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scott Walker,
The Barracudas,
The Slackers,
Donny Hathaway,
Tropical Tobacco,
China Crisis,
K-Klass,
Loose Ends,
Mission of Burma,
Arab on Radar,
The Seeds,
The Fuzztones,
Newcleus,
Eden Ahbez,
Prince Buster,
Sister Nancy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Al Stewart,
Pylon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
cv313,
Joy Division,
Nico,
The Saints,
Soft Machine,
Bootsy Collins,
Idris Muhammad,
X-102,
Junior Murvin,
Accadde A,
Crash Course in Science,
Thompson Twins,
Adolescents,
48th St. Collective,
Quando Quango,
The Searchers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Drive Like Jehu,
X-Ray Spex,
Zero Boys,
Mandrill,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
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.