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 Bangladesh and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the sitar 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tom Boy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scan 7,
Ice-T,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bronski Beat,
Supertramp,
Amazonics,
The Saints,
June of 44,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Martian,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Royal Trux,
Thee Headcoats,
Slave,
H. Thieme,
The Standells,
Crispian St. Peters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Joe Smooth,
Sex Pistols,
The Victims,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barbara Tucker,
Gerry Rafferty,
Juan Atkins,
Sam Rivers,
The Star Department,
Bobby Sherman,
DJ Style,
Godley & Creme,
Jacob Miller,
Electric Prunes,
Pere Ubu,
The Kinks,
Half Japanese,
Skarface,
Bill Wells,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Connie Case,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Joey Negro,
Crime,
Second Layer,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
James White and The Blacks,
Fad Gadget,
Oblivians,
Essential Logic,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Index,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Black Sheep,
cv313,
Wasted Youth,
Heaven 17,
Tubeway Army,
Ten City,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.