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 Ireland and from Manila.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Crispian St. Peters to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Vogues,
Rhythm & Sound,
UT,
JFA,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tommy Roe,
Niagra,
Rufus Thomas,
The Searchers,
Subhumans,
Anakelly,
Scrapy,
Wally Richardson,
Tears for Fears,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Harry Pussy,
Cal Tjader,
These Immortal Souls,
Quando Quango,
The Moleskins,
Procol Harum,
Chris & Cosey,
Faust,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Monks,
Ronnie Foster,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Smog,
Mars,
The Saints,
Maurizio,
Albert Ayler,
The Wake,
New Order,
Graham Central Station,
Danielle Patucci,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Depeche Mode,
Gil Scott Heron,
Idris Muhammad,
Chrome,
Pantaleimon,
Toni Rubio,
Gichy Dan,
Scott Walker,
the Human League,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Curtis Mayfield,
Swans,
Peter and Kerry,
The Blues Magoos,
John Coltrane,
AZ,
Bill Near,
John Foxx,
Anthony Braxton,
The Neon Judgement,
Fatback Band,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.