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 Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the organ 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 Babytalk to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
B.T. Express,
The Dead C,
T.S.O.L.,
Idris Muhammad,
Fatback Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Royal Trux,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Unrelated Segments,
10cc,
Gang of Four,
Lucky Dragons,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Radio Birdman,
Joe Smooth,
Carl Craig,
Maleditus Sound,
Mad Mike,
Connie Case,
Marc Almond,
June Days,
Popol Vuh,
Television Personalities,
Laurel Aitken,
Lungfish,
Eddi Front,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Brass Construction,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
John Coltrane,
Suicide,
Freddie Wadling,
Make Up,
Kas Product,
The Pretty Things,
Masters at Work,
Davy DMX,
Cameo,
The Dirtbombs,
Zero Boys,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Andrew Hill,
A Certain Ratio,
Blossom Toes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Patti Smith,
Bad Manners,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Absolute Body Control,
Motorama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Negative Approach,
Warsaw,
Erykah Badu,
Curtis Mayfield,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Martian,
Robert Görl,
Robert Wyatt,
Spandau Ballet,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.