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 Indonesia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Glenn Branca to the grunge 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 The Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
X-101,
The Walker Brothers,
Yellowson,
Maurizio,
Wings,
Skriet,
Spoonie Gee,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Stetsasonic,
DJ Style,
Shoche,
Frankie Knuckles,
This Heat,
The Black Dice,
Icehouse,
Quantec,
Skarface,
Roxette,
The Buckinghams,
The Smoke,
the Sonics,
Rekid,
Kaleidoscope,
Fad Gadget,
Sight & Sound,
Charles Mingus,
The Dirtbombs,
Sixth Finger,
Faust,
the Normal,
Gong,
Porter Ricks,
Underground Resistance,
Juan Atkins,
Lakeside,
Althea and Donna,
The Vogues,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Fuzztones,
Connie Case,
Liliput,
Terry Callier,
Lou Reed,
Jawbox,
Masters at Work,
Motorama,
Scientists,
Technova,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Flamin' Groovies,
Echospace,
Gerry Rafferty,
Second Layer,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Scrapy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Derrick Morgan,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.