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 Venezuela and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the rap 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Barrington Levy,
the Germs,
Robert Wyatt,
Pantytec,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Residents,
Robert Hood,
The Skatalites,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Aaron Thompson,
Soft Cell,
Arcadia,
Heaven 17,
David Axelrod,
David Bowie,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Zero Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pere Ubu,
Archie Shepp,
The Walker Brothers,
Nick Fraelich,
Pierre Henry,
MC5,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lower 48,
The Barracudas,
Harpers Bizarre,
Siglo XX,
Brick,
Mr. Review,
Circle Jerks,
KRS-One,
EPMD,
Depeche Mode,
Joey Negro,
Ituana,
Fatback Band,
Camberwell Now,
Ornette Coleman,
Big Daddy Kane,
New Age Steppers,
Goldenarms,
Barbara Tucker,
June of 44,
Interpol,
Pylon,
Joyce Sims,
Carl Craig,
Rakim,
The Knickerbockers,
UT,
Juan Atkins,
Steve Hackett,
Patti Smith,
ABC,
Lindisfarne,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.