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 Guyana and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the techno 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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sonic Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rotary Connection,
Los Fastidios,
Davy DMX,
Black Pus,
Scrapy,
Don Cherry,
Terrestrial Tones,
Soft Cell,
June Days,
Black Moon,
Derrick May,
Cheater Slicks,
The Pop Group,
New York Dolls,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Flesh Eaters,
Echospace,
Heaven 17,
David McCallum,
The Martian,
These Immortal Souls,
Kenny Larkin,
Basic Channel,
Make Up,
The Human League,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cluster,
Aswad,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sex Pistols,
Faust,
Black Bananas,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bill Near,
Steve Hackett,
Harpers Bizarre,
Icehouse,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Doors,
Tubeway Army,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Velvet Underground,
The Invisible,
Oblivians,
The Dead C,
Alphaville,
Derrick Morgan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Michelle Simonal,
Pole,
Nirvana,
Ronnie Foster,
Chris Corsano,
Archie Shepp,
Circle Jerks,
Matthew Bourne,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fear,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band, Lafayette Afro Rock Band.
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.