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 New Zealand and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Stiv Bators to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Sex Pistols,
Sarah Menescal,
Laurel Aitken,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Invisible,
Wasted Youth,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Boz Scaggs,
Girls At Our Best!,
The American Breed,
Gabor Szabo,
Grey Daturas,
Lou Reed,
Eurythmics,
The Mojo Men,
Depeche Mode,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gang Gang Dance,
B.T. Express,
Newcleus,
Hashim,
The United States of America,
The Last Poets,
Toni Rubio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ronnie Foster,
a-ha,
Eve St. Jones,
Slick Rick,
Make Up,
Scott Walker,
Rapeman,
Iggy Pop,
Skarface,
The Skatalites,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Inner City,
The Vogues,
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers,
Thompson Twins,
Clear Light,
Interpol,
Johnny Clarke,
Quando Quango,
Ronan,
Sight & Sound,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Pharoah Sanders,
Andrew Hill,
Ken Boothe,
The Music Machine,
The Gories,
Nation of Ulysses,
New York Dolls,
The Standells,
Qualms,
Surgeon,
Urselle,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.