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 Uruguay and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bronski Beat to the crunk 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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Fad Gadget,
The Kinks,
Brothers Johnson,
Lindisfarne,
The Associates,
Magazine,
Colin Newman,
Girls At Our Best!,
Man Parrish,
Reuben Wilson,
Porter Ricks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Unwound,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kas Product,
Brass Construction,
The Index,
Archie Shepp,
Quando Quango,
Jeff Lynne,
The Tremeloes,
Suburban Knight,
Zapp,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Blues Magoos,
Sex Pistols,
The Shadows of Knight,
Graham Central Station,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Coltrane,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bootsy Collins,
Boz Scaggs,
The American Breed,
Soft Cell,
Pussy Galore,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Vainqueur,
T. Rex,
Tears for Fears,
Lightning Bolt,
Reagan Youth,
Wire,
Crime,
Mission of Burma,
Harmonia,
Darondo,
Hoover,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ponytail,
Pierre Henry,
Jawbox,
Lyres,
Fela Kuti,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bill Near,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Hashim,
David Axelrod,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.