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 Bahrain and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord 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 Henry Cow to the jazz 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Byrd,
The New Christs,
The Neon Judgement,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Marshall Jefferson,
Arthur Verocai,
F. McDonald,
The Misunderstood,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
X-Ray Spex,
PIL,
Tommy Roe,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Second Layer,
Barclay James Harvest,
Symarip,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Dead C,
The Sonics,
Cheater Slicks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Heaven 17,
The Searchers,
Tim Buckley,
Livin' Joy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Bananas,
The Real Kids,
Fear,
Ice-T,
The Durutti Column,
Carl Craig,
Maurizio,
Los Fastidios,
Talk Talk,
The Barracudas,
Minutemen,
The Fortunes,
Cal Tjader,
David McCallum,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Underground Resistance,
Sugar Minott,
The Smiths,
Technova,
Flash Fearless,
Wings,
The J.B.'s,
Alton Ellis,
Skriet,
B.T. Express,
Niagra,
Gabor Szabo,
Janne Schatter,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Banda Bassotti,
Rod Modell,
Sister Nancy,
Eric Dolphy,
Marc Almond,
Darondo,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.