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 Panama and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Cecil Taylor to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
The Saints,
Don Cherry,
The Stooges,
Matthew Bourne,
Simply Red,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amazonics,
Yazoo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Matthew Halsall,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Accadde A,
Iggy Pop,
Jimmy McGriff,
Suicide,
Harry Pussy,
Graham Central Station,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The United States of America,
Ronan,
Moss Icon,
Funky Four + One,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Invisible,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Womack,
Monks,
Blake Baxter,
The Mummies,
The American Breed,
Flamin' Groovies,
Babytalk,
Cecil Taylor,
Cameo,
Janne Schatter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Flash Fearless,
Soft Cell,
Hot Snakes,
The Moleskins,
Monolake,
Deadbeat,
Animal Collective,
Bang On A Can,
Spoonie Gee,
Derrick Morgan,
Susan Cadogan,
The Golliwogs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Laurel Aitken,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cheater Slicks,
DJ Style,
Gang Gang Dance,
Neil Young,
Sixth Finger,
Niagra,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.