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 Suriname and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 arpeggiator 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 Hardrive to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
The Dead C,
Desert Stars,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Boz Scaggs,
Pantytec,
The Walker Brothers,
Bluetip,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Electric Prunes,
Ponytail,
Peter and Kerry,
Sun City Girls,
Pagans,
The Black Dice,
David McCallum,
Wings,
Ralphi Rosario,
Schoolly D,
Yusef Lateef,
Talk Talk,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Roy Ayers,
The Associates,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bizarre Inc.,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jeff Mills,
Colin Newman,
Roxy Music,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Wake,
The Searchers,
The Residents,
Roger Hodgson,
U.S. Maple,
Tres Demented,
The Five Americans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Underground Resistance,
Godley & Creme,
Davy DMX,
Bootsy Collins,
The Kinks,
Simply Red,
The Standells,
The Index,
the Slits,
D'Angelo,
The American Breed,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Bush Tetras,
KRS-One,
X-101,
CMW,
The Happenings,
Gang Green,
The Trojans,
Ken Boothe,
June of 44,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.