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 Fiji and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Columbus.
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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Curtis Mayfield,
Alton Ellis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bronski Beat,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Stockholm Monsters,
Erasure,
The Last Poets,
John Cale,
Monolake,
Desert Stars,
Q65,
Scrapy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Evens,
Altered Images,
The Dead C,
Matthew Halsall,
Derrick May,
Ossler,
Fad Gadget,
Can,
Jeff Mills,
Arthur Verocai,
Lakeside,
Visage,
The United States of America,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jeff Lynne,
Metal Thangz,
The Leaves,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Real Kids,
Blancmange,
Livin' Joy,
the Normal,
Alice Coltrane,
The Alarm Clocks,
Laurel Aitken,
Warsaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Popol Vuh,
Theoretical Girls,
Donny Hathaway,
Barbara Tucker,
Tommy Roe,
Todd Terry,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Amazonics,
Essential Logic,
Bill Near,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sällskapet,
Iggy Pop,
Heaven 17,
Youth Brigade,
Aural Exciters,
Yaz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.