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 Tuvalu and from Mumbai.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Trojans to the crunk 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb 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 arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Swans,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Invisible,
Michelle Simonal,
Joensuu 1685,
Kurtis Blow,
Barry Ungar,
Aswad,
Marc Almond,
X-Ray Spex,
Public Image Ltd.,
Godley & Creme,
Graham Central Station,
Popol Vuh,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lightning Bolt,
The Slackers,
Black Pus,
L. Decosne,
Liliput,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Amon Düül II,
Crime,
The Cure,
Delta 5,
Metal Thangz,
Rosa Yemen,
Ludus,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hot Snakes,
Babytalk,
The Monochrome Set,
X-101,
Jerry's Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Erasure,
The Young Rascals,
Harry Pussy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cal Tjader,
New York Dolls,
The Human League,
The Mummies,
Kas Product,
The Grass Roots,
Minutemen,
The Flesh Eaters,
Silicon Teens,
JFA,
Camberwell Now,
Harmonia,
Maurizio,
Hoover,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Tremeloes,
Slave,
Pylon,
Amazonics,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.