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 Vanuatu and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 The Divine Comedy to the grunge 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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Goldenarms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rod Modell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Malaria!,
Slave,
Lucky Dragons,
The Selecter,
Prince Buster,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ponytail,
Arcadia,
Nik Kershaw,
Henry Cow,
Eli Mardock,
H. Thieme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Camberwell Now,
The Young Rascals,
Babytalk,
The Cramps,
Make Up,
Lungfish,
Johnny Clarke,
Max Romeo,
Monolake,
The Electric Prunes,
Eurythmics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DJ Sneak,
Pere Ubu,
T. Rex,
Marcia Griffiths,
Colin Newman,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jandek,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Andrew Hill,
FM Einheit,
Franke,
World's Most,
Absolute Body Control,
Banda Bassotti,
Bobby Womack,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Agent Orange,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pussy Galore,
The New Christs,
June of 44,
Surgeon,
Matthew Halsall,
The Victims,
Brass Construction,
Rod Modell,
Fluxion,
Blake Baxter,
Davy DMX,
Severed Heads,
The Mummies,
Carl Craig,
The Names,
Robert Wyatt,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.