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 Cuba 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 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 Metal Thangz to the grime 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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Mars,
Chrome,
Circle Jerks,
Kaleidoscope,
ABBA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Kinks,
Derrick May,
Public Image Ltd.,
David Bowie,
Cheater Slicks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Aloha Tigers,
Lalann,
Bush Tetras,
John Lydon,
Absolute Body Control,
Sun City Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Khruangbin,
Kas Product,
Masters at Work,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bizarre Inc.,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Howard Jones,
Johnny Osbourne,
Henry Cow,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mandrill,
Bauhaus,
Gang of Four,
Q and Not U,
Albert Ayler,
June Days,
Ossler,
The Standells,
Camberwell Now,
Joensuu 1685,
Tubeway Army,
The Mojo Men,
Silicon Teens,
Boredoms,
Soft Machine,
Juan Atkins,
UT,
Black Bananas,
Kayak,
Tomorrow,
Index,
Joy Division,
Procol Harum,
8 Eyed Spy,
Robert Hood,
Donny Hathaway,
Angry Samoans,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.