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 India and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar 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 H. Thieme to the grime 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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Görl record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
June Days,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rites of Spring,
The Knickerbockers,
Kaleidoscope,
New York Dolls,
Bootsy Collins,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eve St. Jones,
Crime,
Marine Girls,
Freddie Wadling,
Sly & The Family Stone,
China Crisis,
Ornette Coleman,
Intrusion,
Basic Channel,
Crispy Ambulance,
Qualms,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Nils Olav,
Suburban Knight,
The Moody Blues,
Don Cherry,
Fad Gadget,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Brand Nubian,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Visage,
The Cowsills,
The Gun Club,
The Offenders,
Crash Course in Science,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bad Manners,
Zero Boys,
The Gap Band,
Ken Boothe,
Glenn Branca,
Japan,
Camouflage,
Wolf Eyes,
The Techniques,
The Star Department,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ronnie Foster,
Loose Ends,
Lindisfarne,
James White and The Blacks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Dead C,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Sherman,
David McCallum,
Von Mondo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Young Marble Giants,
The United States of America,
ABBA,
LL Cool J,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
David Axelrod,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.