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 Tonga and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Hong Kong.
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 guitar 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 Chrome to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Grey Daturas,
Bronski Beat,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Terrestrial Tones,
Eddi Front,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Sound,
Barclay James Harvest,
Angry Samoans,
Japan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Laurel Aitken,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Womack,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bizarre Inc.,
DJ Sneak,
Yaz,
Tom Boy,
Mission of Burma,
Tommy Roe,
Organ,
The Golliwogs,
The Pretty Things,
Bad Manners,
Index,
Quando Quango,
Wally Richardson,
Tres Demented,
The Trojans,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scion,
The Mummies,
Marc Almond,
The Star Department,
Barrington Levy,
Metal Thangz,
Beasts of Bourbon,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Skriet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lucky Dragons,
The Last Poets,
The Toasters,
Surgeon,
Kurtis Blow,
Marmalade,
Black Bananas,
The Index,
Barry Ungar,
Warren Ellis,
Crooked Eye,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Pus,
Kevin Saunderson,
Blancmange,
ABC,
Y Pants,
Boredoms,
Marcia Griffiths,
Oblivians,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.