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 Kuwait and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Misunderstood to the rock 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Henry Cow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlback,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Banda Bassotti,
Harry Pussy,
John Coltrane,
The Beau Brummels,
Max Romeo,
These Immortal Souls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pantytec,
Jeff Mills,
The United States of America,
Quadrant,
Urselle,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The J.B.'s,
Camouflage,
Maleditus Sound,
Lou Reed,
Duran Duran,
Mark Hollis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wire,
Heaven 17,
Fluxion,
K-Klass,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Sound,
Infiniti,
Black Sheep,
The Mojo Men,
Vainqueur,
The Move,
Barrington Levy,
Maurizio,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ohio Players,
Jacques Brel,
Sex Pistols,
Animal Collective,
The Index,
Alice Coltrane,
Fear,
Kerrie Biddell,
Make Up,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Saccharine Trust,
Aaron Thompson,
Arthur Verocai,
Terry Callier,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Joensuu 1685,
Interpol,
Pylon,
Model 500,
Junior Murvin,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.