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 El Salvador and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron 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 The Modern Lovers to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
Mr. Review,
Iggy Pop,
The Velvet Underground,
LL Cool J,
Heaven 17,
MDC,
Camouflage,
Surgeon,
Alton Ellis,
Susan Cadogan,
The Gladiators,
Porter Ricks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bluetip,
JFA,
David Axelrod,
Los Fastidios,
Pylon,
Charles Mingus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yaz,
Desert Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Echospace,
The Young Rascals,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Five Americans,
Gang of Four,
Television,
Interpol,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Human League,
EPMD,
Cal Tjader,
Quadrant,
Bronski Beat,
Pantaleimon,
Model 500,
Ossler,
June of 44,
Bobby Byrd,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
The American Breed,
Johnny Clarke,
Joe Finger,
Wasted Youth,
Tres Demented,
ABC,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Alice Coltrane,
Guru Guru,
Mars,
Ten City,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cheater Slicks,
The Martian,
Livin' Joy,
Lou Christie,
Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty, Gerry Rafferty.
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.