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 Morocco and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 synthesizer 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 The Selecter to the grime 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
Malaria!,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Susan Cadogan,
The Tremeloes,
The Raincoats,
Avey Tare,
Unwound,
Camouflage,
Khruangbin,
Dark Day,
Tomorrow,
Warsaw,
Reagan Youth,
The Martian,
Delon & Dalcan,
Minny Pops,
Bill Wells,
Rekid,
Blossom Toes,
The Star Department,
Archie Shepp,
John Lydon,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lucky Dragons,
Moby Grape,
The Slackers,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Associates,
Lindisfarne,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sun Ra,
Niagra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Terry Callier,
Terrestrial Tones,
Albert Ayler,
The Wake,
Black Moon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Wings,
Wolf Eyes,
Scientists,
Cheater Slicks,
Basic Channel,
Kayak,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
John Coltrane,
Donald Byrd,
Visage,
Marc Almond,
The Saints,
Tres Demented,
Sixth Finger,
Maleditus Sound,
The Techniques,
The Trojans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Leaves,
the Slits,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.