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 Bangladesh and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 The Invisible to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Easy Going record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
Smog,
Surgeon,
Lalann,
Silicon Teens,
Chrome,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ronnie Foster,
Colin Newman,
Tom Boy,
The Stooges,
Drexciya,
Television Personalities,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kerri Chandler,
Supertramp,
Bluetip,
Ludus,
Slave,
The Blackbyrds,
JFA,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Grey Daturas,
Buzzcocks,
Talk Talk,
Matthew Halsall,
Eric Copeland,
The Velvet Underground,
Stetsasonic,
Funkadelic,
Swans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Yusef Lateef,
In Retrospect,
Tommy Roe,
Black Sheep,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Public Enemy,
Marvin Gaye,
Nick Fraelich,
Angry Samoans,
Joy Division,
The Fuzztones,
Bob Dylan,
Mantronix,
The Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tubeway Army,
Kaleidoscope,
Soft Cell,
Amon Düül II,
June Days,
Zero Boys,
Dead Boys,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Zeros,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
UT,
Throbbing Gristle,
Hoover,
Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus, Newcleus.
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.