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 Congo and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Robert Görl to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Archie Shepp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Foxx,
The Dirtbombs,
Black Flag,
The Golliwogs,
The Evens,
Can,
The Velvet Underground,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Organ,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Divine Comedy,
Derrick Morgan,
Lyres,
Cameo,
Ronan,
Model 500,
Spoonie Gee,
Yusef Lateef,
Lou Christie,
EPMD,
Black Bananas,
China Crisis,
Faust,
Reagan Youth,
Funkadelic,
E-Dancer,
U.S. Maple,
Ultravox,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wasted Youth,
Pere Ubu,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispy Ambulance,
Graham Central Station,
The Happenings,
KRS-One,
Nas,
Colin Newman,
Funky Four + One,
Saccharine Trust,
The Blues Magoos,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Audionom,
the Germs,
Roger Hodgson,
Derrick May,
The Detroit Cobras,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pylon,
Surgeon,
Mantronix,
Frankie Knuckles,
F. McDonald,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Trojans,
Barry Ungar,
Kenny Larkin,
Quadrant,
Nils Olav,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.