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 Greece and from Madrid.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 organ 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the techno 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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dirtbombs,
Guru Guru,
Swans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Symarip,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Panda Bear,
Blossom Toes,
Moebius,
La Düsseldorf,
10cc,
Dawn Penn,
Morten Harket,
Dave Gahan,
Amon Düül II,
Parry Music,
Neu!,
The Mummies,
Au Pairs,
Eric Dolphy,
Public Enemy,
The United States of America,
Jandek,
John Cale,
Ohio Players,
Ultimate Spinach,
Echospace,
Interpol,
KRS-One,
Bill Near,
Moss Icon,
June of 44,
the Slits,
Nick Fraelich,
Rapeman,
New York Dolls,
Steve Hackett,
Lower 48,
Fugazi,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pierre Henry,
Arthur Verocai,
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Sherman,
ABC,
Barbara Tucker,
Ken Boothe,
Marvin Gaye,
The Seeds,
Archie Shepp,
Magazine,
Khruangbin,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tim Buckley,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Goldenarms,
Juan Atkins,
Little Man,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.