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 Kazakhstan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Shuggie Otis to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All New Order tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Mark Hollis,
The Black Dice,
the Swans,
Outsiders,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Residents,
Mad Mike,
The Moody Blues,
The Index,
Tres Demented,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Womack,
Sällskapet,
Tim Buckley,
The American Breed,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sister Nancy,
Liliput,
Pere Ubu,
The Cowsills,
Banda Bassotti,
Deepchord,
The Gun Club,
Rites of Spring,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pylon,
The Techniques,
Severed Heads,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mission of Burma,
F. McDonald,
Blake Baxter,
Andrew Hill,
Barbara Tucker,
Ronan,
Jimmy McGriff,
Groovy Waters,
The Gladiators,
Lucky Dragons,
UT,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Barry Ungar,
Skriet,
The Pretty Things,
Michelle Simonal,
Ice-T,
Ultra Naté,
Radiopuhelimet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Supertramp,
X-Ray Spex,
PIL,
Metal Thangz,
DJ Sneak,
Fad Gadget,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
MC5,
Erasure,
10cc,
Tomorrow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.