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 Equatorial Guinea and from Paris.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 guitar 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 Invisible to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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?
Wally Richardson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Slick Rick,
The Fuzztones,
The Electric Prunes,
Quando Quango,
Unwound,
New York Dolls,
Drive Like Jehu,
Scan 7,
Crash Course in Science,
Tim Buckley,
Mantronix,
John Lydon,
The Divine Comedy,
Todd Rundgren,
CMW,
Das Ding,
The Dead C,
Altered Images,
June of 44,
Roxy Music,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Blackbyrds,
MDC,
Outsiders,
Public Image Ltd.,
John Coltrane,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Sound,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Glenn Branca,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Birthday Party,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Radiohead,
The Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Grey Daturas,
The Stooges,
Bang On A Can,
Joe Smooth,
Morten Harket,
Bauhaus,
Pantytec,
Mo-Dettes,
Alphaville,
The Gun Club,
Roger Hodgson,
Pantaleimon,
DJ Sneak,
Girls At Our Best!,
Excepter,
Hashim,
MC5,
Robert Görl,
Eli Mardock,
Television Personalities,
Au Pairs,
kango's stein massive,
Joe Finger,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.