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 Lithuania and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Ultravox to the grime 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade 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?
Wally Richardson,
These Immortal Souls,
Matthew Halsall,
Delon & Dalcan,
Harry Pussy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Black Moon,
The Tremeloes,
The Slackers,
The Birthday Party,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Can,
Aural Exciters,
Swans,
Kas Product,
Moebius,
Eddi Front,
The Real Kids,
Boredoms,
Hot Snakes,
Roxette,
Severed Heads,
Infiniti,
E-Dancer,
the Swans,
Stiv Bators,
Minnie Riperton,
Scan 7,
Michelle Simonal,
Minor Threat,
Simply Red,
Siglo XX,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Grey Daturas,
the Bar-Kays,
Brothers Johnson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Zero Boys,
Groovy Waters,
Average White Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Althea and Donna,
Bobby Sherman,
China Crisis,
Graham Central Station,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Star Department,
Lower 48,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eurythmics,
Cameo,
The Selecter,
H. Thieme,
Don Cherry,
The Residents,
Freddie Wadling,
Monolake,
Laurel Aitken,
Black Bananas,
Unwound,
Brass Construction,
The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps, The Cramps.
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.