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 Mozambique and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Donald Fagen 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 Crispian St. Peters to the rap 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Surgeon,
Bauhaus,
The Tremeloes,
Masters at Work,
Arab on Radar,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Young Marble Giants,
H. Thieme,
Mr. Review,
Alison Limerick,
Gang Green,
Erasure,
The Invisible,
Yellowson,
Japan,
48th St. Collective,
Rotary Connection,
Liliput,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bronski Beat,
Lou Christie,
Marine Girls,
Minutemen,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Soft Cell,
Jesper Dahlback,
Main Source,
Fad Gadget,
Cymande,
The Angels of Light,
Brass Construction,
Dead Boys,
Quando Quango,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Zapp,
Boz Scaggs,
Iggy Pop,
Bobby Sherman,
The Buckinghams,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rod Modell,
These Immortal Souls,
Kayak,
Black Sheep,
Scientists,
New York Dolls,
Underground Resistance,
Reuben Wilson,
Josef K,
Q65,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Maurizio,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cheater Slicks,
The Offenders,
The Last Poets,
Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt, Lightning Bolt.
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.