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 Switzerland and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Stereo Dub to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Zero Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Magazine,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Yazoo,
The Fortunes,
Toni Rubio,
Procol Harum,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Pus,
The Associates,
The Flesh Eaters,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Cale,
Clear Light,
L. Decosne,
Henry Cow,
Fear,
Boredoms,
Brick,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bauhaus,
Oblivians,
The Music Machine,
Ice-T,
Sonny Sharrock,
Desert Stars,
Delta 5,
The Dave Clark Five,
Eden Ahbez,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kas Product,
The J.B.'s,
Scion,
Adolescents,
KRS-One,
Public Enemy,
Aloha Tigers,
Severed Heads,
Absolute Body Control,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Masters at Work,
kango's stein massive,
Lalann,
The Gap Band,
Schoolly D,
Yusef Lateef,
Joe Finger,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pierre Henry,
Sandy B,
Stereo Dub,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Walker Brothers,
Johnny Clarke,
JFA,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Massinfluence,
Graham Central Station,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Audionom,
The Gories,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.