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 Malta and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sällskapet to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Vainqueur,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fear,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Star Department,
Quando Quango,
Siglo XX,
Soul II Soul,
Suicide,
Scratch Acid,
Althea and Donna,
One Last Wish,
The Smiths,
Von Mondo,
The Buckinghams,
Bobby Womack,
Colin Newman,
Faraquet,
The Golliwogs,
Roxette,
The Stooges,
John Cale,
Amon Düül,
Nik Kershaw,
Roy Ayers,
The Selecter,
Suburban Knight,
Can,
Girls At Our Best!,
Babytalk,
UT,
Harry Pussy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Loose Ends,
The Smoke,
Funky Four + One,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Knickerbockers,
Charles Mingus,
Eric Copeland,
Sparks,
Symarip,
James White and The Blacks,
DNA,
Junior Murvin,
Mr. Review,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Susan Cadogan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Underground Resistance,
Hot Snakes,
Boz Scaggs,
Qualms,
Lungfish,
The Zeros,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Red Krayola,
Ponytail,
The Dead C,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.