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 Kiribati and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Jakarta.
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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Star Department to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kenny Larkin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Chris Corsano,
Aural Exciters,
Essential Logic,
The Birthday Party,
Pharoah Sanders,
Judy Mowatt,
FM Einheit,
Funkadelic,
Marine Girls,
Soft Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bill Wells,
Khruangbin,
Black Flag,
The Moleskins,
Wings,
the Association,
Crash Course in Science,
Flipper,
Eddi Front,
Sound Behaviour,
Traffic Nightmare,
ABBA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sight & Sound,
Marc Almond,
Nick Fraelich,
Y Pants,
Janne Schatter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Howard Jones,
Swans,
The Smoke,
The Beau Brummels,
Audionom,
Nirvana,
Morten Harket,
Lyres,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Blossom Toes,
Interpol,
Wire,
The Move,
New Age Steppers,
The Mummies,
Rapeman,
Eve St. Jones,
the Normal,
Boredoms,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
In Retrospect,
Freddie Wadling,
Delon & Dalcan,
Schoolly D,
Mars,
Agent Orange,
Throbbing Gristle,
Monolake,
Alphaville,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.