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 Solomon Islands and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 The Mojo Men to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Stiv Bators,
Heaven 17,
The Real Kids,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Althea and Donna,
Marvin Gaye,
Laurel Aitken,
Marine Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Gabor Szabo,
The Pretty Things,
Skarface,
Jandek,
Rekid,
Dorothy Ashby,
Nik Kershaw,
Charles Mingus,
Magma,
Moby Grape,
Gong,
The Fortunes,
The Names,
Warren Ellis,
Minny Pops,
Tom Boy,
Rufus Thomas,
Sugar Minott,
Joensuu 1685,
Icehouse,
The Searchers,
Bronski Beat,
Moss Icon,
Inner City,
In Retrospect,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Loose Ends,
Con Funk Shun,
Sonny Sharrock,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Pantaleimon,
Simply Red,
Altered Images,
Sexual Harrassment,
Funky Four + One,
The Wake,
Television Personalities,
Mission of Burma,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Depeche Mode,
Monks,
Ornette Coleman,
June Days,
Popol Vuh,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dennis Brown,
Davy DMX,
Eric Copeland,
Peter & Gordon,
The Sound,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.