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 Laos and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Eurythmics,
Robert Görl,
The Cowsills,
Bobby Byrd,
The Searchers,
Ultravox,
Cal Tjader,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cameo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
World's Most,
Lightning Bolt,
Sound Behaviour,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Jeru the Damaja,
Letta Mbulu,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Suicide,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Sherman,
Jacques Brel,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Black Dice,
Todd Rundgren,
The Fire Engines,
Blossom Toes,
Roy Ayers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Standells,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Trumans Water,
Hoover,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eric Copeland,
Ken Boothe,
Wasted Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tres Demented,
Bang On A Can,
Vainqueur,
Whodini,
Avey Tare,
Minor Threat,
James White and The Blacks,
Brothers Johnson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lalann,
the Association,
Soul Sonic Force,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Human League,
Mo-Dettes,
Jerry's Kids,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
DJ Style,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.