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 Jordan 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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Winnipeg.
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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jeff Mills to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
The American Breed,
Skriet,
Brand Nubian,
The Trojans,
Clear Light,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Can,
Boredoms,
Camouflage,
The Toasters,
Absolute Body Control,
This Heat,
The Music Machine,
These Immortal Souls,
The Doors,
Black Pus,
Alice Coltrane,
Technova,
Surgeon,
The Fugs,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Cramps,
Eric Copeland,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marvin Gaye,
Minor Threat,
Kas Product,
Donald Byrd,
CMW,
Marc Almond,
Make Up,
Fela Kuti,
Junior Murvin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eli Mardock,
Eurythmics,
Mission of Burma,
Arthur Verocai,
The Golliwogs,
Charles Mingus,
Toni Rubio,
Swell Maps,
Excepter,
Barbara Tucker,
Wally Richardson,
The Zeros,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roxette,
The J.B.'s,
June Days,
The Monks,
B.T. Express,
The Index,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grey Daturas,
Moebius,
Aural Exciters,
Lebanon Hanover,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.