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 Iceland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the jazz 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Eve St. Jones,
Hoover,
Mission of Burma,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Raincoats,
Wings,
Steve Hackett,
Lightning Bolt,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rekid,
Bobby Sherman,
Sight & Sound,
The American Breed,
Colin Newman,
Bauhaus,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scientists,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
PIL,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rapeman,
Grauzone,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Offenders,
Johnny Clarke,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Human League,
Wally Richardson,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sound Behaviour,
The Buckinghams,
The Move,
Joe Finger,
The Names,
The Alarm Clocks,
Popol Vuh,
Minny Pops,
Nils Olav,
Amazonics,
The Leaves,
Lou Reed,
Wolf Eyes,
Malaria!,
Pere Ubu,
Jeff Mills,
Stetsasonic,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Index,
JFA,
Donald Byrd,
The Star Department,
Brothers Johnson,
Loose Ends,
Inner City,
Theoretical Girls,
This Heat,
The Moleskins,
DJ Sneak,
Index,
EPMD,
Lalann,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.