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 Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bob Dylan to the jazz 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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin 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 harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Morten Harket,
the Swans,
China Crisis,
Young Marble Giants,
The Monks,
The Move,
Section 25,
Livin' Joy,
The Barracudas,
Robert Hood,
Nation of Ulysses,
Aloha Tigers,
D'Angelo,
kango's stein massive,
Brick,
Basic Channel,
John Foxx,
Niagra,
Swans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Average White Band,
Dave Gahan,
Black Flag,
Boogie Down Productions,
Suicide,
The Kinks,
Gabor Szabo,
Cybotron,
Newcleus,
Connie Case,
Roger Hodgson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Flipper,
Joe Smooth,
Davy DMX,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
T. Rex,
Au Pairs,
Ken Boothe,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ohio Players,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Donald Byrd,
Zapp,
Ten City,
Wolf Eyes,
The Vogues,
Althea and Donna,
Throbbing Gristle,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arthur Verocai,
Aural Exciters,
Don Cherry,
Nick Fraelich,
The Slackers,
E-Dancer,
Marshall Jefferson,
Youth Brigade,
The Stooges,
Aswad,
Charles Mingus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.