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 Thailand and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Real Kids,
The Selecter,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Matthew Halsall,
Barrington Levy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Flesh Eaters,
the Normal,
The Dead C,
Country Teasers,
Jawbox,
Cluster,
The Electric Prunes,
The Slackers,
the Germs,
Banda Bassotti,
Ludus,
Hasil Adkins,
Henry Cow,
Bobbi Humphrey,
EPMD,
Aloha Tigers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Oneida,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Dead Boys,
The Velvet Underground,
Desert Stars,
The Vogues,
Black Pus,
Electric Prunes,
Warren Ellis,
Minnie Riperton,
Kaleidoscope,
Johnny Clarke,
The Birthday Party,
Hashim,
Brick,
The Victims,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fela Kuti,
10cc,
Can,
Deepchord,
The Slits,
Second Layer,
Pulsallama,
New Order,
Echospace,
The Cure,
Monolake,
Los Fastidios,
Max Romeo,
Nico,
Rekid,
Stiv Bators,
Judy Mowatt,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.