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 Estonia and from Lagos.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Monochrome Set to the rap 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris & Cosey,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Womack,
The Dirtbombs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Crispian St. Peters,
Robert Görl,
Saccharine Trust,
Sister Nancy,
Vladislav Delay,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bad Manners,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Remains,
Youth Brigade,
ABBA,
Royal Trux,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Essential Logic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pussy Galore,
Mantronix,
Marine Girls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stereo Dub,
Sugar Minott,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soft Cell,
Wire,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Wake,
Man Parrish,
X-102,
U.S. Maple,
Brass Construction,
This Heat,
Lower 48,
Arcadia,
Black Bananas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Groovy Waters,
The Doobie Brothers,
the Germs,
Junior Murvin,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Desert Stars,
cv313,
R.M.O.,
LL Cool J,
June of 44,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Liliput,
Tropical Tobacco,
Con Funk Shun,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kenny Larkin,
Roger Hodgson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.