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 Kosovo and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gabor Szabo to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
Suburban Knight,
Glenn Branca,
Pole,
Oblivians,
Swans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Buzzcocks,
Au Pairs,
David McCallum,
Rekid,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Y Pants,
Pylon,
Thee Headcoats,
Radiohead,
Harmonia,
Scott Walker,
Funkadelic,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lower 48,
Glambeats Corp.,
John Coltrane,
Rufus Thomas,
The J.B.'s,
The Offenders,
Anakelly,
Cluster,
Albert Ayler,
The Monochrome Set,
Mary Jane Girls,
This Heat,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Slits,
Minny Pops,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Das Ding,
Maurizio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Simply Red,
Alice Coltrane,
Man Parrish,
Tres Demented,
Freddie Wadling,
Brass Construction,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Iggy Pop,
Fatback Band,
Ronnie Foster,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Clear Light,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zero Boys,
Jerry's Kids,
Smog,
Icehouse,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.