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 China and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Stockholm.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Barrington Levy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Godley & Creme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Radio Birdman,
The Mummies,
Infiniti,
Crime,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
DJ Sneak,
Tropical Tobacco,
Yazoo,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Normal,
Fat Boys,
Bauhaus,
Lower 48,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marvin Gaye,
Sexual Harrassment,
10cc,
MC5,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Slits,
Banda Bassotti,
Echospace,
H. Thieme,
Nas,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Thompson Twins,
Sex Pistols,
Reuben Wilson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Unrelated Segments,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Mark Hollis,
D'Angelo,
the Sonics,
Bobby Sherman,
Bill Near,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alice Coltrane,
Franke,
Jeff Lynne,
Marc Almond,
Pussy Galore,
Fugazi,
New Order,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Peter & Gordon,
Minnie Riperton,
Boogie Down Productions,
Agent Orange,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
B.T. Express,
Nick Fraelich,
The Star Department,
Jimmy McGriff,
Flipper,
It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day, It's A Beautiful Day.
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.