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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mission of Burma to the funk 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
X-102,
The Slackers,
Howard Jones,
Deadbeat,
Brick,
Rod Modell,
Funkadelic,
Graham Central Station,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
ABC,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Shuggie Otis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
John Holt,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Fania All-Stars,
Siglo XX,
Talk Talk,
World's Most,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lyres,
Shoche,
Kas Product,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Lou Reed,
Nils Olav,
Derrick Morgan,
Dave Gahan,
The Pretty Things,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mission of Burma,
Arab on Radar,
The Seeds,
Subhumans,
Young Marble Giants,
Absolute Body Control,
Deepchord,
Black Pus,
The Fortunes,
Wolf Eyes,
Tom Boy,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Cowsills,
Chris Corsano,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Harry Pussy,
Popol Vuh,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sister Nancy,
The Walker Brothers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Birthday Party,
New York Dolls,
Banda Bassotti,
Malaria!,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fat Boys,
The Vogues,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.