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 Philippines and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Red Krayola to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sexual Harrassment,
Funky Four + One,
Young Marble Giants,
Rakim,
Morten Harket,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Interpol,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boz Scaggs,
F. McDonald,
Robert Görl,
Kaleidoscope,
The Smiths,
The Velvet Underground,
Cluster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Hashim,
Drexciya,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eric Copeland,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Half Japanese,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Television,
Cheater Slicks,
Susan Cadogan,
Lucky Dragons,
Joensuu 1685,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric B and Rakim,
Surgeon,
Faraquet,
Adolescents,
The Fugs,
Alison Limerick,
Electric Prunes,
Bobby Womack,
Intrusion,
The Durutti Column,
Eli Mardock,
Cybotron,
Second Layer,
Trumans Water,
Cymande,
Amon Düül,
Pierre Henry,
Sam Rivers,
Stetsasonic,
Anthony Braxton,
Grey Daturas,
Gabor Szabo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Au Pairs,
The Slits,
Nick Fraelich,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.