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 Kenya and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Camberwell Now to the punk 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 Easy Going. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Lou Reed,
The Real Kids,
The Five Americans,
Ossler,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Slits,
Black Bananas,
Whodini,
Bill Wells,
John Foxx,
Donald Byrd,
Lungfish,
Rakim,
The Fortunes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Association,
David McCallum,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rod Modell,
Eric B and Rakim,
X-Ray Spex,
Depeche Mode,
Swans,
Lindisfarne,
Pylon,
Patti Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Vainqueur,
The Standells,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Monochrome Set,
The Happenings,
The Divine Comedy,
Electric Prunes,
The Pretty Things,
The Doobie Brothers,
Alphaville,
Crispian St. Peters,
Chris & Cosey,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Roxette,
K-Klass,
Charles Mingus,
Warsaw,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sam Rivers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cheater Slicks,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Angels of Light,
Fad Gadget,
Bizarre Inc.,
Urselle,
Harry Pussy,
Ultra Naté,
Dark Day,
Fatback Band,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.