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 Uganda and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin 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 the Soft Cell to the punk 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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Zeros 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
The Dirtbombs,
Janne Schatter,
Mission of Burma,
Amazonics,
Brass Construction,
Das Ding,
Lebanon Hanover,
Visage,
Carl Craig,
Black Bananas,
Joensuu 1685,
Swell Maps,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Warsaw,
Judy Mowatt,
Kerri Chandler,
Ken Boothe,
The Victims,
Maleditus Sound,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Slits,
Andrew Hill,
Harry Pussy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Suburban Knight,
Youth Brigade,
Animal Collective,
In Retrospect,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bang On A Can,
John Lydon,
Howard Jones,
Unwound,
Scott Walker,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rites of Spring,
the Association,
Saccharine Trust,
The United States of America,
Aural Exciters,
The Smoke,
Livin' Joy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pere Ubu,
Godley & Creme,
Sandy B,
Index,
Bobby Byrd,
Minor Threat,
Derrick Morgan,
Jeff Mills,
Soul Sonic Force,
Charles Mingus,
Ornette Coleman,
Gang Gang Dance,
DNA,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.