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 Jamaica and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 Jeff Lynne to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Brick,
Todd Rundgren,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Simply Red,
Glenn Branca,
Malaria!,
The Gories,
Mr. Review,
Jacob Miller,
Echospace,
Charles Mingus,
John Coltrane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lebanon Hanover,
Zapp,
Sex Pistols,
The Durutti Column,
Angry Samoans,
Television Personalities,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Arcadia,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bush Tetras,
Shoche,
Sexual Harrassment,
Duran Duran,
The Five Americans,
Faust,
Magma,
Joe Smooth,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bill Wells,
Gichy Dan,
Erasure,
Crash Course in Science,
Swell Maps,
Soul II Soul,
Crooked Eye,
Lindisfarne,
The Happenings,
Tim Buckley,
These Immortal Souls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Scott Walker,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Toni Rubio,
Eli Mardock,
Rekid,
Leonard Cohen,
Cheater Slicks,
John Foxx,
H. Thieme,
Sound Behaviour,
Chrome,
Yellowson,
Absolute Body Control,
Alphaville,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.