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 Slovenia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Starr to the crunk 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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sarah Menescal,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
EPMD,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Thee Headcoats,
The Techniques,
Freddie Wadling,
Skarface,
Desert Stars,
PIL,
The Leaves,
The New Christs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Wake,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
KRS-One,
Buzzcocks,
T.S.O.L.,
Quando Quango,
Kenny Larkin,
Minny Pops,
Black Bananas,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantaleimon,
The Gladiators,
Black Flag,
Fat Boys,
Panda Bear,
Kurtis Blow,
John Holt,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rotary Connection,
David McCallum,
Technova,
Roger Hodgson,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Martian,
Boredoms,
Section 25,
Lindisfarne,
Minutemen,
Hasil Adkins,
Half Japanese,
Main Source,
Qualms,
The Star Department,
Ultravox,
Al Stewart,
David Axelrod,
Intrusion,
Ossler,
Tres Demented,
E-Dancer,
Oblivians,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.