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 Belarus and from Seoul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tehran.
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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 DJ Sneak to the electroclash 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
The Grass Roots,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Bar-Kays,
Tommy Roe,
Godley & Creme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rakim,
Tubeway Army,
Talk Talk,
June of 44,
Pole,
Average White Band,
The Cure,
The Skatalites,
Leonard Cohen,
Wings,
The Buckinghams,
Second Layer,
Byron Stingily,
Michelle Simonal,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Aswad,
Lungfish,
Public Enemy,
Patti Smith,
Amon Düül,
Blancmange,
Pantaleimon,
Robert Hood,
The Young Rascals,
Quando Quango,
Pylon,
The Misunderstood,
MC5,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
T. Rex,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Qualms,
Camberwell Now,
Cecil Taylor,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mark Hollis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Arcadia,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Flash Fearless,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mission of Burma,
Infiniti,
Reuben Wilson,
Pagans,
Pulsallama,
Royal Trux,
Dave Gahan,
Television Personalities,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gang Gang Dance,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Das Ding,
Gabor Szabo,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.