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 Lesotho and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Count Five,
Radiopuhelimet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Smiths,
Quantec,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bootsy Collins,
the Germs,
The Sonics,
Crime,
Deepchord,
The Litter,
Max Romeo,
Lightning Bolt,
Freddie Wadling,
Dave Gahan,
Buzzcocks,
Urselle,
Flash Fearless,
The Golliwogs,
Monolake,
Hasil Adkins,
Fatback Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
New Age Steppers,
The Gun Club,
Jeff Lynne,
John Coltrane,
The Angels of Light,
Make Up,
The Mojo Men,
The Sound,
Fad Gadget,
Crispy Ambulance,
Livin' Joy,
Nas,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Eve St. Jones,
Eric B and Rakim,
This Heat,
Fear,
The Cure,
Scion,
Don Cherry,
Altered Images,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Black Bananas,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Kenny Larkin,
Lucky Dragons,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bob Dylan,
Outsiders,
Suburban Knight,
James White and The Blacks,
Spandau Ballet,
UT,
Crash Course in Science,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Soft Machine,
The Seeds,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.