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 Angola and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Germs. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a E-Dancer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
Donald Byrd,
Pharoah Sanders,
Idris Muhammad,
Scratch Acid,
Niagra,
Black Pus,
The Blues Magoos,
Cluster,
Moebius,
Wally Richardson,
Drexciya,
Crispy Ambulance,
Grey Daturas,
Black Sheep,
The Associates,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Christie,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Monks,
The Five Americans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Thee Headcoats,
T. Rex,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Neu!,
Nirvana,
Pierre Henry,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Alison Limerick,
Tom Boy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Unwound,
Mandrill,
Flamin' Groovies,
Pulsallama,
Nick Fraelich,
The Names,
Arab on Radar,
Rhythm & Sound,
the Germs,
Ohio Players,
the Swans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Flag,
Cymande,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Soulsonic Force,
Jeru the Damaja,
R.M.O.,
Minnie Riperton,
Flash Fearless,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
Pere Ubu,
The Pretty Things,
Sound Behaviour,
Make Up,
The Fall,
Cal Tjader,
Michelle Simonal,
Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons, Lucky Dragons.
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.