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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 arpeggiator 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 The Seeds to the punk 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
The Doors,
Todd Terry,
Absolute Body Control,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Funky Four + One,
Crooked Eye,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Roger Hodgson,
The Litter,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Fire Engines,
Glenn Branca,
Matthew Bourne,
The Five Americans,
Quadrant,
The Barracudas,
Grey Daturas,
Curtis Mayfield,
Simply Red,
Mantronix,
Marine Girls,
Neil Young,
Flash Fearless,
Rites of Spring,
The Dead C,
Junior Murvin,
a-ha,
June Days,
Thompson Twins,
One Last Wish,
Youth Brigade,
The Monochrome Set,
Magazine,
The Birthday Party,
Crash Course in Science,
Eli Mardock,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Slave,
The Mummies,
T. Rex,
Panda Bear,
Fad Gadget,
Eric Copeland,
Wolf Eyes,
Soul Sonic Force,
Moby Grape,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slackers,
X-Ray Spex,
Avey Tare,
The Index,
Tomorrow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Average White Band,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Y Pants,
Bobby Womack,
B.T. Express,
The Toasters,
Rakim, Rakim, Rakim, Rakim.
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.