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 Colombia and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lightning Bolt,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sound Behaviour,
The Last Poets,
Talk Talk,
The Golliwogs,
Outsiders,
Circle Jerks,
The Vogues,
8 Eyed Spy,
Marmalade,
Pylon,
Howard Jones,
John Holt,
the Human League,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Procol Harum,
Harmonia,
Black Moon,
Young Marble Giants,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Sex Pistols,
Amazonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Au Pairs,
the Normal,
Absolute Body Control,
Johnny Clarke,
Motorama,
The Victims,
Quando Quango,
Sun City Girls,
Can,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Barry Ungar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Model 500,
Q and Not U,
Hardrive,
Brick,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Warsaw,
Camberwell Now,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Blancmange,
Quadrant,
The Saints,
Dennis Brown,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Remains,
Sonic Youth,
Boredoms,
Soulsonic Force,
The Velvet Underground,
Aloha Tigers,
Bad Manners,
The Residents,
The Young Rascals,
Matthew Bourne,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.