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 Angola and from Cairo.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
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 oboe 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the funk 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Hashim,
Subhumans,
Harmonia,
Wings,
Wolf Eyes,
New Order,
Soft Machine,
Banda Bassotti,
the Human League,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nick Fraelich,
Piero Umiliani,
Curtis Mayfield,
Minutemen,
Faraquet,
Roy Ayers,
The Saints,
Ossler,
Lou Christie,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Q65,
Bauhaus,
T. Rex,
The Raincoats,
Section 25,
Dave Gahan,
Brass Construction,
Pylon,
Marc Almond,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Glenn Branca,
Radio Birdman,
Eric Copeland,
Fela Kuti,
The Fall,
Sixth Finger,
One Last Wish,
Don Cherry,
Roxy Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Massinfluence,
a-ha,
The Wake,
Isaac Hayes,
The Associates,
Supertramp,
Index,
Clear Light,
David Bowie,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sam Rivers,
Motorama,
Altered Images,
10cc,
Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station, Graham Central Station.
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.