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 Gambia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lungfish to the grime 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Barracudas,
The Fire Engines,
Joyce Sims,
Rekid,
Section 25,
Funky Four + One,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jacques Brel,
Hardrive,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Robert Hood,
Isaac Hayes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Roxette,
The Alarm Clocks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Neon Judgement,
Ultravox,
Absolute Body Control,
Icehouse,
Magma,
Crime,
the Swans,
The Mojo Men,
The Trojans,
Lucky Dragons,
Minny Pops,
Ultimate Spinach,
a-ha,
Severed Heads,
Terry Callier,
The Tremeloes,
John Foxx,
Rod Modell,
Cameo,
Zero Boys,
Dead Boys,
Jandek,
The Litter,
Ponytail,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jacob Miller,
Faust,
Index,
Barbara Tucker,
Althea and Donna,
Aswad,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fuzztones,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gun Club,
The Slackers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Rakim,
The Blues Magoos,
Banda Bassotti,
Laurel Aitken,
The Sound,
F. McDonald,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.