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 Nigeria and from Stockholm.
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 Houston and Manchester.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Erasure to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Magma,
The Sound,
New York Dolls,
The Fall,
cv313,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Guru Guru,
The Fire Engines,
Danielle Patucci,
Lightning Bolt,
Tom Boy,
Icehouse,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joe Finger,
Massinfluence,
Darondo,
Jacques Brel,
Dawn Penn,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Gun Club,
Quadrant,
Aswad,
La Düsseldorf,
Can,
Flipper,
Bizarre Inc.,
June of 44,
Marc Almond,
Organ,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Blues Magoos,
Sällskapet,
The Doors,
David Bowie,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Five Americans,
The Litter,
Kurtis Blow,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Henry Cow,
Suburban Knight,
Depeche Mode,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Howard Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Electric Prunes,
Saccharine Trust,
Eric B and Rakim,
Procol Harum,
Idris Muhammad,
Marshall Jefferson,
Aural Exciters,
Negative Approach,
Lungfish,
Circle Jerks,
Joy Division,
Iggy Pop,
Blake Baxter,
Alice Coltrane,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.