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 Madagascar and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Tim Buckley to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Doors,
Matthew Halsall,
Groovy Waters,
Aloha Tigers,
a-ha,
Reuben Wilson,
X-101,
Yazoo,
Pere Ubu,
Slave,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jesper Dahlback,
Tom Boy,
Skriet,
Au Pairs,
The Beau Brummels,
Second Layer,
Hashim,
The Invisible,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Spandau Ballet,
Robert Hood,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Gap Band,
Panda Bear,
Dorothy Ashby,
Babytalk,
Minny Pops,
Niagra,
The Toasters,
Brothers Johnson,
The Moody Blues,
Lakeside,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Pop Group,
Siglo XX,
Severed Heads,
Sister Nancy,
Lyres,
Kaleidoscope,
Quando Quango,
The Golliwogs,
Loose Ends,
The Cure,
Talk Talk,
Rosa Yemen,
Deakin,
Bobby Womack,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Interpol,
Ohio Players,
the Association,
Derrick May,
The Trojans,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Fall,
Gang Starr,
Piero Umiliani,
Main Source,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.