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 Equatorial Guinea and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bronski Beat to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Rapeman,
Dawn Penn,
The Monks,
Reagan Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Fear,
The Gladiators,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Alarm Clocks,
Frankie Knuckles,
Andrew Hill,
The Toasters,
Pantytec,
UT,
June Days,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Foxx,
Vainqueur,
Avey Tare,
Mission of Burma,
Ultravox,
The Standells,
Radiohead,
This Heat,
K-Klass,
Mantronix,
The Happenings,
Drexciya,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Parry Music,
Zapp,
Surgeon,
Roxette,
Scientists,
Popol Vuh,
KRS-One,
Todd Terry,
Moby Grape,
Warsaw,
Erykah Badu,
Y Pants,
Alice Coltrane,
Pulsallama,
Groovy Waters,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
LL Cool J,
New York Dolls,
Bob Dylan,
Skriet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Quantec,
Gang of Four,
Roger Hodgson,
Desert Stars,
The Kinks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
James White and The Blacks,
Letta Mbulu,
Eli Mardock,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.