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 Indonesia and from Johannesburg.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the disco 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 The Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Saccharine Trust,
the Sonics,
Gang Green,
Barry Ungar,
The Martian,
Thee Headcoats,
Tears for Fears,
The Seeds,
The Black Dice,
The Raincoats,
Cecil Taylor,
Television Personalities,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jawbox,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Simply Red,
Eve St. Jones,
Roger Hodgson,
The Grass Roots,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Henry Cow,
Faust,
Pharoah Sanders,
Warren Ellis,
Mo-Dettes,
CMW,
Livin' Joy,
The Saints,
Amon Düül II,
Josef K,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Evens,
Newcleus,
Deepchord,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Offenders,
The Fuzztones,
Aural Exciters,
Sällskapet,
Unrelated Segments,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Vainqueur,
Dark Day,
Youth Brigade,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Victims,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Circle Jerks,
James White and The Blacks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Au Pairs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Boredoms,
kango's stein massive,
Buzzcocks,
Tubeway Army,
The Golliwogs,
Wasted Youth,
Kas Product,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.