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 Gabon and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Beau Brummels to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Severed Heads,
The Birthday Party,
Average White Band,
Sandy B,
The Angels of Light,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Doors,
Pussy Galore,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Pus,
Johnny Clarke,
June of 44,
Steve Hackett,
Magazine,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
One Last Wish,
E-Dancer,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Interpol,
Funkadelic,
Soul II Soul,
Flamin' Groovies,
ABBA,
The Dirtbombs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Slave,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerri Chandler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jeff Lynne,
Tim Buckley,
Grauzone,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ludus,
The Associates,
Kaleidoscope,
Cymande,
Rotary Connection,
T. Rex,
The Fall,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Excepter,
Charles Mingus,
Warren Ellis,
Arcadia,
La Düsseldorf,
Bronski Beat,
Silicon Teens,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Siglo XX,
Boogie Down Productions,
Supertramp,
Dead Boys,
Michelle Simonal,
The Litter,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.