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 Madrid.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Red Krayola to the jazz 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 Alton Ellis. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz 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 mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Con Funk Shun,
The Fire Engines,
Simply Red,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Grass Roots,
D'Angelo,
Icehouse,
Clear Light,
Sister Nancy,
The Walker Brothers,
Sound Behaviour,
Mars,
Fatback Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Bootsy Collins,
The Gun Club,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dave Gahan,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eli Mardock,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Toni Rubio,
Hot Snakes,
Lou Reed,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Dirtbombs,
Shuggie Otis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Henry Cow,
Minny Pops,
Freddie Wadling,
Mantronix,
Crispian St. Peters,
H. Thieme,
Japan,
Livin' Joy,
Pussy Galore,
Reagan Youth,
The Cramps,
Inner City,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fat Boys,
The Star Department,
Robert Hood,
the Fania All-Stars,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Black Moon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Piero Umiliani,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Steve Hackett,
Barbara Tucker,
Cymande,
Bill Wells,
The Smoke,
Brothers Johnson,
Mr. Review,
Arab on Radar,
This Heat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Stetsasonic,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.