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 United States and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Negative Approach to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Throbbing Gristle,
Suburban Knight,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
David Axelrod,
Parry Music,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
H. Thieme,
Mo-Dettes,
Neil Young,
Oblivians,
The Dirtbombs,
Whodini,
Hoover,
Newcleus,
The Pretty Things,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Litter,
Pantaleimon,
Ken Boothe,
Au Pairs,
the Soft Cell,
Brick,
the Swans,
Skarface,
Ten City,
Los Fastidios,
Ohio Players,
Funkadelic,
Magma,
Bobby Sherman,
Junior Murvin,
Eric Copeland,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fela Kuti,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Aural Exciters,
Sound Behaviour,
Sparks,
The Count Five,
The Toasters,
Girls At Our Best!,
T. Rex,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grey Daturas,
Cheater Slicks,
Brass Construction,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marvin Gaye,
Panda Bear,
The Walker Brothers,
Banda Bassotti,
Laurel Aitken,
Sixth Finger,
Maleditus Sound,
Little Man,
The Sound,
The Smoke,
Niagra,
The Motions,
Pussy Galore,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.