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 Cambodia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Saccharine Trust to the techno 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul II Soul record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Grey Daturas,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Alarm Clocks,
Q and Not U,
Mark Hollis,
MDC,
Roy Ayers,
Blancmange,
Hashim,
The Kinks,
Harry Pussy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Byron Stingily,
Electric Prunes,
Robert Görl,
Susan Cadogan,
Ludus,
The Associates,
The Five Americans,
Urselle,
The United States of America,
Idris Muhammad,
Can,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Searchers,
Minutemen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Angels of Light,
Bizarre Inc.,
New Order,
Jacques Brel,
The Victims,
Unwound,
Roxette,
Mr. Review,
Donald Byrd,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Judy Mowatt,
Interpol,
Eurythmics,
Porter Ricks,
Jeff Lynne,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jawbox,
John Lydon,
The Blackbyrds,
Fat Boys,
Lou Christie,
Amon Düül,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cramps,
Cluster,
Piero Umiliani,
Nick Fraelich,
David Axelrod,
E-Dancer,
Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson, Brothers Johnson.
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.