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 Sierra Leone and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Grauzone 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fad Gadget,
Pere Ubu,
Los Fastidios,
Eve St. Jones,
Dave Gahan,
Glenn Branca,
Man Parrish,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pierre Henry,
Vladislav Delay,
Pole,
10cc,
Matthew Bourne,
Robert Wyatt,
John Lydon,
Zero Boys,
Sexual Harrassment,
Basic Channel,
The Cure,
Audionom,
Rhythm & Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grandmaster Flash,
Adolescents,
Dark Day,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nils Olav,
Essential Logic,
Rapeman,
The Tremeloes,
Alison Limerick,
Lee Hazlewood,
Moby Grape,
June Days,
Robert Hood,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Porter Ricks,
Lakeside,
Swell Maps,
The Victims,
Simply Red,
Wally Richardson,
Skriet,
Wasted Youth,
Leonard Cohen,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
T.S.O.L.,
China Crisis,
Motorama,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tom Boy,
DJ Sneak,
The Real Kids,
Wire,
The Wake,
Moebius,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Blues Magoos,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Roxy Music,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.