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 China and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 clarinet 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 Charles Mingus to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
PIL,
Drive Like Jehu,
Blossom Toes,
The Busters,
Gabor Szabo,
Gong,
Duran Duran,
Rhythm & Sound,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Standells,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lower 48,
Little Man,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pylon,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Alton Ellis,
48th St. Collective,
Max Romeo,
The Grass Roots,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Loose Ends,
Ituana,
Mad Mike,
Roy Ayers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kerri Chandler,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Residents,
Flipper,
The Gladiators,
Stetsasonic,
Dave Gahan,
Marc Almond,
Bootsy Collins,
The Motions,
The Young Rascals,
In Retrospect,
Lalann,
Leonard Cohen,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Vladislav Delay,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Fat Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bizarre Inc.,
Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare,
David Axelrod,
Soul II Soul,
Bush Tetras,
Country Teasers,
The Star Department,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.