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 Bolivia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 mellotron 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 Bobby Womack to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
PIL,
Sonny Sharrock,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pierre Henry,
James White and The Blacks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Crispy Ambulance,
Malaria!,
Black Flag,
The Cure,
The Divine Comedy,
La Düsseldorf,
Laurel Aitken,
Ice-T,
John Coltrane,
Grauzone,
The Buckinghams,
The Slits,
June of 44,
the Normal,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Freddie Wadling,
Dorothy Ashby,
Heaven 17,
Desert Stars,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Grandmaster Flash,
JFA,
Supertramp,
Lucky Dragons,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pere Ubu,
10cc,
Harry Pussy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marc Almond,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Robert Görl,
The Vogues,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Boz Scaggs,
Max Romeo,
the Slits,
The Knickerbockers,
Yellowson,
Massinfluence,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bush Tetras,
Intrusion,
the Association,
Bob Dylan,
Simply Red,
Kaleidoscope,
Anthony Braxton,
The Barracudas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Second Layer,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.