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 Benin and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 808 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 The Blues Magoos to the grunge 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 The Stooges. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Dirtbombs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Vladislav Delay,
Anthony Braxton,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Delon & Dalcan,
Oneida,
The Monks,
Tom Boy,
Agitation Free,
Bluetip,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lungfish,
Kool Moe Dee,
Frankie Knuckles,
Marcia Griffiths,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Amazonics,
Arab on Radar,
Suicide,
Brand Nubian,
Todd Terry,
Junior Murvin,
Loose Ends,
Derrick May,
10cc,
Pet Shop Boys,
X-101,
Fela Kuti,
Donald Byrd,
Kas Product,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dual Sessions,
Absolute Body Control,
DJ Sneak,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Deakin,
Unwound,
Quando Quango,
Japan,
Eli Mardock,
Peter and Kerry,
L. Decosne,
Eric Copeland,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Heaven 17,
Camouflage,
Scratch Acid,
Man Parrish,
U.S. Maple,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Durutti Column,
The Sonics,
Sparks,
Dawn Penn,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.