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 Nigeria and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Rosa Yemen to the rock 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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ken Boothe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
The United States of America,
The Skatalites,
Sonic Youth,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dark Day,
The Cowsills,
Heaven 17,
Mars,
Zapp,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
Guru Guru,
Y Pants,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Metal Thangz,
Lungfish,
Organ,
Animal Collective,
The Gap Band,
David McCallum,
Ultra Naté,
Kas Product,
Black Moon,
Quadrant,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Freddie Wadling,
The Real Kids,
Dorothy Ashby,
Parry Music,
Ultravox,
Dennis Brown,
Lalo Schifrin,
Slick Rick,
The Red Krayola,
L. Decosne,
The Selecter,
H. Thieme,
The Index,
Tres Demented,
Bush Tetras,
Laurel Aitken,
Harpers Bizarre,
Royal Trux,
Infiniti,
Au Pairs,
Warren Ellis,
Bill Wells,
Rapeman,
Joy Division,
AZ,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gang Starr,
Andrew Hill,
The Slits,
Cybotron,
Ornette Coleman,
Neil Young,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.