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 Jordan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin 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 Barclay James Harvest to the grime 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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
The United States of America,
The Real Kids,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dave Gahan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Drexciya,
Jawbox,
The Mojo Men,
Kerrie Biddell,
Mad Mike,
Rakim,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Pop Group,
Bill Near,
The Grass Roots,
Dead Boys,
Zapp,
Lyres,
Khruangbin,
The Doors,
Kaleidoscope,
New York Dolls,
Youth Brigade,
Pylon,
the Sonics,
Gerry Rafferty,
Con Funk Shun,
A Certain Ratio,
Radio Birdman,
Subhumans,
Chris Corsano,
H. Thieme,
China Crisis,
The Pretty Things,
Cluster,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Junior Murvin,
Aural Exciters,
Pantytec,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
In Retrospect,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wings,
Gang Gang Dance,
Technova,
Lindisfarne,
Matthew Bourne,
Pulsallama,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Tres Demented,
Oblivians,
Ponytail,
Silicon Teens,
Index,
Brick,
Marc Almond,
Eddi Front,
Kurtis Blow,
X-Ray Spex,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.