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 Lesotho and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 In Retrospect to the techno 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green 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 '80s 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 Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
The Selecter,
The United States of America,
Barclay James Harvest,
Nation of Ulysses,
Iggy Pop,
Massinfluence,
Barry Ungar,
Ludus,
Johnny Clarke,
Outsiders,
X-101,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Skaos,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Patti Smith,
Au Pairs,
Albert Ayler,
Kas Product,
The Star Department,
OOIOO,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
A Certain Ratio,
Clear Light,
Rosa Yemen,
The Doobie Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Detroit Cobras,
Underground Resistance,
Gang of Four,
Ultravox,
Duran Duran,
AZ,
The Residents,
Absolute Body Control,
Excepter,
Soft Machine,
The Cramps,
The Knickerbockers,
The Slits,
DJ Style,
Heaven 17,
Rites of Spring,
Nas,
Kool Moe Dee,
Ultra Naté,
Spandau Ballet,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Buzzcocks,
Con Funk Shun,
Sister Nancy,
Erykah Badu,
Sex Pistols,
Brothers Johnson,
Los Fastidios,
Grey Daturas,
Motorama,
Rekid,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.