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 Ethiopia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Michael McDonald 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 Fall to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
The Vogues,
Donald Byrd,
Black Moon,
June of 44,
Boredoms,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Roxette,
Kerri Chandler,
Oblivians,
Desert Stars,
Supertramp,
Freddie Wadling,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sly & The Family Stone,
JFA,
Infiniti,
Public Image Ltd.,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Underground Resistance,
Y Pants,
The Saints,
The Motions,
Crash Course in Science,
Soft Machine,
The Pop Group,
The Mummies,
Kaleidoscope,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
LL Cool J,
Swans,
The Fugs,
Warren Ellis,
Idris Muhammad,
Pantytec,
Mo-Dettes,
Excepter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
In Retrospect,
Harry Pussy,
Yellowson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Gang of Four,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Detroit Cobras,
Easy Going,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boz Scaggs,
PIL,
Icehouse,
Ultra Naté,
Sam Rivers,
The American Breed,
Fear,
Bizarre Inc.,
X-Ray Spex,
Mark Hollis,
the Human League,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.