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 Ghana and from Madrid.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 arpeggiator 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Moody Blues,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Selecter,
Freddie Wadling,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
MC5,
The Dead C,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lungfish,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cluster,
Grauzone,
Minutemen,
Royal Trux,
R.M.O.,
The Busters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ohio Players,
New Order,
Radio Birdman,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Gun Club,
Thee Headcoats,
Main Source,
The Walker Brothers,
Sex Pistols,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cramps,
Harmonia,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Scientists,
The Searchers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Juan Atkins,
Sun City Girls,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Godley & Creme,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Amon Düül,
Graham Central Station,
David Axelrod,
Masters at Work,
Deepchord,
Outsiders,
John Coltrane,
Organ,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ossler,
Jacques Brel,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fuzztones,
Roy Ayers,
Eric Dolphy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Alice Coltrane,
DNA,
Johnny Clarke,
Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens, Silicon Teens.
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.