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 Brazil and from Stockholm.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 In Retrospect to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Girls At Our Best!. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
The Fire Engines,
Monolake,
Royal Trux,
8 Eyed Spy,
Malaria!,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gang Gang Dance,
Susan Cadogan,
Circle Jerks,
Cymande,
FM Einheit,
CMW,
The Offenders,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Yazoo,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Durutti Column,
Slick Rick,
Blancmange,
Sandy B,
Laurel Aitken,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Toasters,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Pop Group,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gong,
Scientists,
Derrick May,
Heaven 17,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gregory Isaacs,
Sparks,
Siglo XX,
Colin Newman,
Hot Snakes,
Reuben Wilson,
Bush Tetras,
The Grass Roots,
Anakelly,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Model 500,
Desert Stars,
Country Teasers,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roger Hodgson,
Eve St. Jones,
Con Funk Shun,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Victims,
The Stooges,
Dorothy Ashby,
X-101,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
La Düsseldorf,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.