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 Maldives and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Yusef Lateef to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Wire 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Donald Byrd,
Hot Snakes,
The United States of America,
Reuben Wilson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Vladislav Delay,
The Trojans,
Barry Ungar,
The Sound,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Stooges,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Danielle Patucci,
Deadbeat,
Peter and Kerry,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Minny Pops,
Bootsy Collins,
The Move,
Fela Kuti,
Josef K,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare,
Ohio Players,
The Flesh Eaters,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
LL Cool J,
the Fania All-Stars,
Charles Mingus,
Rotary Connection,
Television Personalities,
Grey Daturas,
Cheater Slicks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Divine Comedy,
Average White Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Los Fastidios,
Country Teasers,
Stereo Dub,
Cluster,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Selecter,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dawn Penn,
Rakim,
Sonic Youth,
Todd Terry,
Skriet,
Robert Görl,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sex Pistols,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ponytail,
Inner City,
UT,
Subhumans,
Reagan Youth,
Harmonia,
Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia, Arcadia.
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.