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 Kyrgyzstan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Graham Central Station to the jazz 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
The Toasters,
The Fall,
Eric B and Rakim,
Spandau Ballet,
The Saints,
Blake Baxter,
Mandrill,
Carl Craig,
Jeff Mills,
Parry Music,
The Moody Blues,
The Offenders,
The Happenings,
Metal Thangz,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Yellowson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
Sandy B,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lou Christie,
The Black Dice,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Black Flag,
Intrusion,
Cybotron,
Alphaville,
Nation of Ulysses,
Radio Birdman,
Pierre Henry,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
London Community Gospel Choir,
X-102,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Nirvana,
Tommy Roe,
Sex Pistols,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Surgeon,
Agent Orange,
Susan Cadogan,
Alice Coltrane,
Public Enemy,
The Victims,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sparks,
Avey Tare,
Can,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cameo,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Monochrome Set,
The Gladiators,
Second Layer,
Letta Mbulu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barbara Tucker,
Eric Copeland,
Dennis Brown,
10cc,
Basic Channel,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.