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 Canada and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Houston.
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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Morten Harket to the rock 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Cure,
Ultra Naté,
Robert Wyatt,
The Evens,
Metal Thangz,
Juan Atkins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jeff Lynne,
Aswad,
Easy Going,
Bob Dylan,
X-Ray Spex,
Lebanon Hanover,
Accadde A,
Pierre Henry,
The Vogues,
Dark Day,
Mission of Burma,
Unwound,
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
Ronnie Foster,
Harmonia,
Q65,
Gang Starr,
Magazine,
The Smoke,
Tim Buckley,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Banda Bassotti,
Qualms,
Arthur Verocai,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sun Ra,
Yusef Lateef,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Stooges,
Clear Light,
The Velvet Underground,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Amon Düül II,
The United States of America,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Womack,
Cameo,
Marmalade,
The Mojo Men,
Swans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bluetip,
Gang Gang Dance,
China Crisis,
Erykah Badu,
Radiopuhelimet,
Interpol,
Fat Boys,
The Pop Group,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.