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 Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer 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 This Heat to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Rekid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Kerri Chandler,
The Cure,
John Coltrane,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Blackbyrds,
Television,
Bill Near,
Desert Stars,
The Golliwogs,
Amon Düül,
Negative Approach,
Lindisfarne,
Gang Gang Dance,
New York Dolls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eric Copeland,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rites of Spring,
The Durutti Column,
This Heat,
Rufus Thomas,
Wolf Eyes,
Subhumans,
Bush Tetras,
Q and Not U,
Nils Olav,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rhythm & Sound,
Dave Gahan,
Tears for Fears,
the Soft Cell,
Kenny Larkin,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Cal Tjader,
Japan,
The Index,
PIL,
Tommy Roe,
Shoche,
Lalo Schifrin,
Connie Case,
Cybotron,
Scion,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Buckinghams,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Flash Fearless,
Mad Mike,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sister Nancy,
June Days,
EPMD,
Carl Craig,
Graham Central Station,
Faust,
Oblivians,
The Monochrome Set,
Cluster,
Ronnie Foster,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.