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 Korea South and from London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Wings to the rock 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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jacob Miller,
June of 44,
The Count Five,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Slits,
Fear,
Echospace,
Suburban Knight,
Glenn Branca,
Hardrive,
Malaria!,
Junior Murvin,
Half Japanese,
Sun City Girls,
Q and Not U,
Wings,
The Gladiators,
The Sonics,
Reuben Wilson,
Brick,
Godley & Creme,
The Cowsills,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Yaz,
Sandy B,
Robert Wyatt,
Smog,
Alphaville,
The Walker Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The New Christs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mummies,
Sällskapet,
Scion,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Porter Ricks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Marmalade,
Circle Jerks,
The Cramps,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Eddi Front,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Harpers Bizarre,
U.S. Maple,
The Moleskins,
Faust,
Royal Trux,
The Birthday Party,
Yusef Lateef,
ABC,
Black Bananas,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cure,
Mars,
Intrusion,
Minnie Riperton,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.