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 Malta and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 sitar 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 Todd Terry to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hot Snakes,
Cybotron,
the Bar-Kays,
Masters at Work,
8 Eyed Spy,
Crash Course in Science,
The Slits,
These Immortal Souls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Cheater Slicks,
Aaron Thompson,
Fatback Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
New Age Steppers,
KRS-One,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Davy DMX,
The Neon Judgement,
Basic Channel,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Birthday Party,
Rufus Thomas,
Country Joe & The Fish,
H. Thieme,
Juan Atkins,
Icehouse,
Avey Tare,
The Offenders,
Ohio Players,
Funkadelic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gap Band,
Panda Bear,
Cal Tjader,
Underground Resistance,
Whodini,
Colin Newman,
The Associates,
The Trojans,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Index,
Pantytec,
The Sonics,
E-Dancer,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scion,
OOIOO,
Minnie Riperton,
Arthur Verocai,
Roy Ayers,
Black Bananas,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Livin' Joy,
Anthony Braxton,
Lucky Dragons,
Bad Manners,
Robert Hood,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Magma,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth.
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.