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 Tajikistan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 chamberlin 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 Mo-Dettes to the dance 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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Q65,
Boz Scaggs,
the Association,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Erykah Badu,
Graham Central Station,
Cal Tjader,
Roxette,
ABBA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bootsy Collins,
Oblivians,
Janne Schatter,
Patti Smith,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tom Boy,
Nick Fraelich,
Index,
Avey Tare,
Organ,
Accadde A,
James White and The Blacks,
Khruangbin,
Aswad,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Spoonie Gee,
Nils Olav,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Faust,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobby Womack,
Jawbox,
Joyce Sims,
Bob Dylan,
Sparks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Underground Resistance,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pierre Henry,
Robert Wyatt,
The Last Poets,
Moss Icon,
The United States of America,
Pagans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rakim,
Bang On A Can,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Saccharine Trust,
Symarip,
Loose Ends,
The Beau Brummels,
June Days,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eric Copeland,
The Raincoats,
Franke,
Crime,
The Wake,
Soft Cell,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.