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 Swaziland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 snare 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 Mo-Dettes to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Real Kids,
Quando Quango,
The J.B.'s,
Mandrill,
The Trojans,
Public Enemy,
The Motions,
Warren Ellis,
Khruangbin,
The Offenders,
The Stooges,
Cal Tjader,
Spandau Ballet,
Bang On A Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Kenny Larkin,
Bronski Beat,
Quantec,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobby Womack,
Reuben Wilson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Unwound,
Connie Case,
Nirvana,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Chrome,
The Fall,
Ponytail,
The Evens,
Ituana,
Gerry Rafferty,
Swans,
Moebius,
The Saints,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Roy Ayers,
DNA,
Joy Division,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Flash Fearless,
Pere Ubu,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Main Source,
The Mojo Men,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Amazonics,
Sound Behaviour,
The Skatalites,
Camberwell Now,
James White and The Blacks,
The Busters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Harry Pussy,
Talk Talk,
Yaz,
Motorama,
Masters at Work,
Reagan Youth,
Flipper,
Jacob Miller,
Aswad,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.