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 Ukraine and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb 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 Terrestrial Tones to the punk 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 The Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Inner City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doors 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sarah Menescal,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lyres,
Khruangbin,
The Offenders,
The Busters,
Cal Tjader,
Brass Construction,
Moebius,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Suburban Knight,
The Vogues,
Buzzcocks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Public Image Ltd.,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Rites of Spring,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ultravox,
Bad Manners,
Monolake,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mission of Burma,
John Coltrane,
Pantaleimon,
The Invisible,
Neil Young,
The Kinks,
Organ,
Radiopuhelimet,
John Foxx,
The Names,
Cybotron,
Kenny Larkin,
Zapp,
Sun Ra,
Whodini,
10cc,
Ludus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
These Immortal Souls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Zero Boys,
Yaz,
The Cowsills,
CMW,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Modern Lovers,
Magazine,
Chris Corsano,
Q and Not U,
DJ Style,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Divine Comedy,
Yazoo,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.