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 Denmark and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Michael McDonald 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Crash Course in Science tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
The Doors,
Basic Channel,
Magazine,
Slick Rick,
The Standells,
Soft Cell,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Buckinghams,
Fela Kuti,
Deakin,
The Searchers,
Al Stewart,
Gang Starr,
Skaos,
Connie Case,
Bad Manners,
Bobby Womack,
Cal Tjader,
Talk Talk,
The Skatalites,
Peter and Kerry,
Eddi Front,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Invisible,
Johnny Osbourne,
Japan,
Don Cherry,
The Selecter,
Sandy B,
10cc,
Second Layer,
Stockholm Monsters,
Funkadelic,
Delta 5,
Alison Limerick,
H. Thieme,
Crooked Eye,
The Last Poets,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxy Music,
Nils Olav,
Joe Finger,
EPMD,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Juan Atkins,
cv313,
Vainqueur,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Offenders,
Clear Light,
Sam Rivers,
Thee Headcoats,
Max Romeo,
Kevin Saunderson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Scan 7,
The Five Americans,
Zero Boys,
Sonic Youth,
Malaria!,
Absolute Body Control,
Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell, Rod Modell.
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.