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 Jordan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Radiohead to the grime 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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mantronix,
Make Up,
the Normal,
Drexciya,
H. Thieme,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Easy Going,
This Heat,
The Dirtbombs,
MDC,
The Remains,
Lightning Bolt,
Q65,
The Standells,
Goldenarms,
Marine Girls,
Flamin' Groovies,
Unwound,
Nik Kershaw,
Camberwell Now,
The Doobie Brothers,
Main Source,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Happenings,
The Walker Brothers,
Gong,
The Cramps,
The Modern Lovers,
Guru Guru,
Tears for Fears,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fat Boys,
Ohio Players,
FM Einheit,
Mars,
Gabor Szabo,
DNA,
Mad Mike,
Smog,
Brass Construction,
Banda Bassotti,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bad Manners,
Ludus,
Von Mondo,
Monks,
Lucky Dragons,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rod Modell,
Porter Ricks,
Clear Light,
Adolescents,
Boz Scaggs,
Section 25,
Steve Hackett,
The Residents,
These Immortal Souls,
Josef K,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.