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 Iceland and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Shuggie Otis to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
The Leaves,
Gerry Rafferty,
Funkadelic,
Massinfluence,
Mark Hollis,
Wire,
The Residents,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Albert Ayler,
Derrick Morgan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
MC5,
Andrew Hill,
The Tremeloes,
Bill Near,
JFA,
Kenny Larkin,
Kerri Chandler,
The Index,
The Fuzztones,
Max Romeo,
The Victims,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Quantec,
Sam Rivers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Happenings,
Jawbox,
Can,
John Lydon,
The Five Americans,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fugs,
Grey Daturas,
Sixth Finger,
Hot Snakes,
the Slits,
Amazonics,
Procol Harum,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vladislav Delay,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Delta 5,
Bobby Sherman,
Barbara Tucker,
ABBA,
Juan Atkins,
Metal Thangz,
The Red Krayola,
Derrick May,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cramps,
Sun City Girls,
the Bar-Kays,
June of 44,
DNA,
Talk Talk,
U.S. Maple,
Scratch Acid,
Bluetip,
Faust,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.