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 Seychelles and from Accra.
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 Madrid and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Tom Verlaine 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 This Heat to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Blues Magoos,
John Holt,
Lee Hazlewood,
David McCallum,
Ohio Players,
Duran Duran,
Bauhaus,
The New Christs,
Jeff Lynne,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Make Up,
Visage,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brand Nubian,
Johnny Clarke,
Todd Rundgren,
H. Thieme,
Stockholm Monsters,
Curtis Mayfield,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rod Modell,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Christie,
KRS-One,
Vainqueur,
Leonard Cohen,
Index,
Subhumans,
Aural Exciters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Heaven 17,
Magazine,
Delta 5,
The Motions,
The Move,
Jacob Miller,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Laurel Aitken,
The Dead C,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scientists,
Parry Music,
Arab on Radar,
Newcleus,
Agitation Free,
Drive Like Jehu,
Symarip,
Oblivians,
Quando Quango,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Walker Brothers,
The Zeros,
Alphaville,
B.T. Express,
The Gories,
Tom Boy,
Dark Day,
Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson, Reuben Wilson.
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.