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 Tonga and from Hong Kong.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lindisfarne to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Blossom Toes,
Pantaleimon,
The Count Five,
the Normal,
The Cure,
Alphaville,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Moon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gang of Four,
Robert Hood,
Pylon,
New Age Steppers,
Suburban Knight,
Mandrill,
Lower 48,
The Litter,
Barclay James Harvest,
Skarface,
Terrestrial Tones,
Neu!,
Josef K,
The Electric Prunes,
Yazoo,
Howard Jones,
Vainqueur,
Newcleus,
Von Mondo,
The J.B.'s,
Al Stewart,
Duran Duran,
The Neon Judgement,
John Coltrane,
Funky Four + One,
Jeff Mills,
Minutemen,
Althea and Donna,
Tubeway Army,
The Gun Club,
Amazonics,
The Smoke,
Funkadelic,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tim Buckley,
Second Layer,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aswad,
Animal Collective,
cv313,
Skriet,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bronski Beat,
Sight & Sound,
Slick Rick,
Quando Quango,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Angry Samoans,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Archie Shepp,
Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip, Bluetip.
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.