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 Namibia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and London.
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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the crunk 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The American Breed,
Ten City,
Sister Nancy,
Faraquet,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Max Romeo,
Robert Hood,
X-102,
Piero Umiliani,
Rod Modell,
John Lydon,
Sex Pistols,
Fat Boys,
Bob Dylan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liliput,
Khruangbin,
The Beau Brummels,
PIL,
Carl Craig,
kango's stein massive,
The Pretty Things,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Hashim,
Television,
The Neon Judgement,
Jacob Miller,
The Kinks,
Prince Buster,
Barry Ungar,
Donald Byrd,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Soft Cell,
Intrusion,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Frankie Knuckles,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joe Smooth,
The Last Poets,
Cameo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
OOIOO,
Dennis Brown,
Masters at Work,
Second Layer,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roxette,
The Dead C,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Byron Stingily,
Silicon Teens,
the Bar-Kays,
Ultimate Spinach,
Boredoms,
Sparks,
Kurtis Blow,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Interpol,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.