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 Ethiopia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Real Kids to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sound Behaviour record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
The Count Five,
Talk Talk,
The Victims,
Clear Light,
Index,
Todd Terry,
Radio Birdman,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Black Dice,
Hasil Adkins,
Freddie Wadling,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronan,
Zapp,
The Music Machine,
The Smoke,
The Dead C,
ABC,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cowsills,
Darondo,
Radiopuhelimet,
Crooked Eye,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Selecter,
The Sonics,
48th St. Collective,
Mission of Burma,
Accadde A,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dirtbombs,
Massinfluence,
Das Ding,
The Busters,
Thee Headcoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Inner City,
Aswad,
Moby Grape,
The Misunderstood,
New Order,
Intrusion,
Heaven 17,
The Moleskins,
Tears for Fears,
David McCallum,
Lucky Dragons,
Jacob Miller,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
F. McDonald,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Henry Cow,
Derrick Morgan,
UT,
Q and Not U,
Minnie Riperton,
R.M.O.,
Carl Craig,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.