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 France and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Circle Jerks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rahsaan Roland Kirk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scion,
Crash Course in Science,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Remains,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Byrd,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Zapp,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tres Demented,
The Electric Prunes,
ABBA,
Moebius,
Delta 5,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Country Teasers,
Negative Approach,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Unrelated Segments,
The Monks,
Graham Central Station,
Shoche,
Fugazi,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Stooges,
Lungfish,
Rekid,
Fatback Band,
Danielle Patucci,
Liliput,
Flipper,
Can,
Tropical Tobacco,
Donny Hathaway,
Gil Scott Heron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Michelle Simonal,
Hashim,
Technova,
Iggy Pop,
Boogie Down Productions,
Barrington Levy,
Subhumans,
Rosa Yemen,
Silicon Teens,
The American Breed,
Gang Green,
Pere Ubu,
The Knickerbockers,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Dead C,
Black Sheep,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Laurel Aitken,
Josef K,
Minny Pops,
Public Image Ltd.,
Blake Baxter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Model 500,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.