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 Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Freddie Wadling to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
a-ha,
Bob Dylan,
Procol Harum,
Sam Rivers,
The Motions,
Scratch Acid,
Ossler,
The Slits,
Technova,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nils Olav,
Circle Jerks,
Das Ding,
Niagra,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alice Coltrane,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Last Poets,
the Association,
The Barracudas,
Pet Shop Boys,
Deakin,
John Holt,
Little Man,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ituana,
Nirvana,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Colin Newman,
The Associates,
Freddie Wadling,
Camberwell Now,
Black Moon,
Drexciya,
The Monks,
Q and Not U,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Fall,
Animal Collective,
Zapp,
Ten City,
Infiniti,
World's Most,
Pere Ubu,
Magma,
Howard Jones,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bizarre Inc.,
Alphaville,
Soul II Soul,
The Golliwogs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Fat Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Mummies,
Ludus,
The Moody Blues,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.