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 Montenegro and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Anthony Braxton to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rotary Connection,
Metal Thangz,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terry Callier,
Mr. Review,
10cc,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Avey Tare,
Gong,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Wake,
Lyres,
Tomorrow,
Charles Mingus,
The Victims,
China Crisis,
Underground Resistance,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hasil Adkins,
Fad Gadget,
Porter Ricks,
Make Up,
Tubeway Army,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispy Ambulance,
Trumans Water,
Blancmange,
Supertramp,
Fluxion,
Dark Day,
Iggy Pop,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
K-Klass,
Minny Pops,
Loose Ends,
Bad Manners,
Harmonia,
Unrelated Segments,
Negative Approach,
Black Bananas,
Royal Trux,
Franke,
Scientists,
Neil Young,
Can,
Isaac Hayes,
The Misunderstood,
Infiniti,
Masters at Work,
Banda Bassotti,
Goldenarms,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Cramps,
Nik Kershaw,
Interpol,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mars,
Pussy Galore,
Dave Gahan,
Swans,
Pierre Henry,
Patti Smith,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.