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 St Lucia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 theremin 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Q and Not U record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Buckinghams,
Von Mondo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Faust,
The Remains,
CMW,
Robert Wyatt,
Eric B and Rakim,
Yellowson,
The Names,
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Gang Dance,
Big Daddy Kane,
U.S. Maple,
Arcadia,
Minnie Riperton,
Byron Stingily,
Maurizio,
Moss Icon,
John Cale,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ituana,
The Kinks,
The Cowsills,
The Saints,
Albert Ayler,
Smog,
Model 500,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Urselle,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Raincoats,
Heaven 17,
Glenn Branca,
Eli Mardock,
Sound Behaviour,
Cluster,
Marc Almond,
Prince Buster,
Jimmy McGriff,
Con Funk Shun,
Yusef Lateef,
X-101,
Black Bananas,
Todd Rundgren,
H. Thieme,
The Offenders,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Echospace,
Aaron Thompson,
Rapeman,
R.M.O.,
Boredoms,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Gladiators,
Oblivians,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eddi Front,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.