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 Tanzania and from Manchester.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Blues Magoos to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Royal Family And The Poor. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Nik Kershaw,
Moby Grape,
Robert Görl,
Maurizio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jerry's Kids,
Marshall Jefferson,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Swans,
the Soft Cell,
Pierre Henry,
Amazonics,
T.S.O.L.,
Oneida,
The Gladiators,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Swans,
Dennis Brown,
Royal Trux,
Black Pus,
the Slits,
The Victims,
Gang Green,
Soft Cell,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Byrd,
Eurythmics,
The Gap Band,
Black Bananas,
Scrapy,
Crooked Eye,
Bauhaus,
Easy Going,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alton Ellis,
Babytalk,
Crime,
Unwound,
The Young Rascals,
K-Klass,
Schoolly D,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobby Womack,
Mantronix,
Rekid,
The Monks,
Silicon Teens,
Lucky Dragons,
Oblivians,
EPMD,
China Crisis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Man Parrish,
Glenn Branca,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fluxion,
Smog,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kas Product,
Blossom Toes,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.