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 Tanzania and from Spokane.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 The Birthday Party to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eurythmics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Moebius,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Red Krayola,
Sex Pistols,
Don Cherry,
Throbbing Gristle,
Livin' Joy,
Dark Day,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cymande,
Swell Maps,
Surgeon,
The J.B.'s,
Johnny Osbourne,
Glambeats Corp.,
Goldenarms,
Television Personalities,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Yazoo,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scratch Acid,
Basic Channel,
Sister Nancy,
Davy DMX,
Michelle Simonal,
Crime,
Second Layer,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Bush Tetras,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ituana,
Rotary Connection,
The Sound,
Severed Heads,
Los Fastidios,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wasted Youth,
Panda Bear,
Lou Reed,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Motions,
Animal Collective,
Boredoms,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Susan Cadogan,
K-Klass,
Y Pants,
Amon Düül II,
Soft Machine,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Arthur Verocai,
The Busters,
Pussy Galore,
Magma,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Terrestrial Tones,
Josef K,
Amazonics,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.