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 Portugal and from Manila.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mojo Men to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron 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 Martian,
China Crisis,
The Doors,
The Golliwogs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Womack,
The Cowsills,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
La Düsseldorf,
Sound Behaviour,
Magma,
Index,
The Divine Comedy,
John Holt,
Man Eating Sloth,
Franke,
Massinfluence,
The Knickerbockers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Monks,
Little Man,
Marine Girls,
Amon Düül II,
Matthew Bourne,
H. Thieme,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Don Cherry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Black Flag,
CMW,
Carl Craig,
Suicide,
Robert Hood,
Crime,
Hardrive,
Fear,
Alphaville,
The Mummies,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Fania All-Stars,
Nico,
Kerrie Biddell,
Excepter,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Raincoats,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Young Marble Giants,
Funky Four + One,
Blossom Toes,
Accadde A,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Deepchord,
X-Ray Spex,
Grandmaster Flash,
Shuggie Otis,
The Last Poets,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.