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 Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin 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 Gang of Four to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All The Royal Family And The Poor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fifty Foot Hose record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harpers Bizarre,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra,
John Cale,
The Buckinghams,
Joyce Sims,
Scratch Acid,
Man Parrish,
Piero Umiliani,
Nas,
PIL,
Soft Cell,
Toni Rubio,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Negative Approach,
Vladislav Delay,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Blackbyrds,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pagans,
The Standells,
Crooked Eye,
Marmalade,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Trojans,
The Grass Roots,
Dual Sessions,
Ultra Naté,
Von Mondo,
Joe Finger,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pet Shop Boys,
Davy DMX,
Technova,
Zapp,
The Gories,
Pole,
Scott Walker,
The Velvet Underground,
The Music Machine,
Rekid,
Procol Harum,
Blossom Toes,
Radiohead,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lou Reed,
Flash Fearless,
The Busters,
London Community Gospel Choir,
cv313,
Kerrie Biddell,
Reuben Wilson,
FM Einheit,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Accadde A,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Wake,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Q and Not U,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.