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 Nepal and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Television,
The Gladiators,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric Copeland,
Dual Sessions,
The Raincoats,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Severed Heads,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Banda Bassotti,
Curtis Mayfield,
Junior Murvin,
Gerry Rafferty,
Flash Fearless,
The Moody Blues,
Marc Almond,
Rakim,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pet Shop Boys,
Faust,
Depeche Mode,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Quantec,
The Monochrome Set,
Audionom,
Second Layer,
Roy Ayers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bush Tetras,
Whodini,
Harry Pussy,
X-101,
Juan Atkins,
Ice-T,
Hot Snakes,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sonic Youth,
The Cramps,
Sparks,
Davy DMX,
The Pretty Things,
Graham Central Station,
Barrington Levy,
Darondo,
Sandy B,
Oblivians,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grauzone,
ABC,
Wire,
The Gap Band,
Organ,
Index,
Idris Muhammad,
Blancmange,
John Coltrane,
Jacob Miller,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marine Girls,
Supertramp,
Make Up,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.