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 Papua New Guinea and from Calgary.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
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 mellotron 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 CMW to the funk 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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Niagra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Johnny Clarke,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eden Ahbez,
Con Funk Shun,
The Last Poets,
Jesper Dahlback,
Outsiders,
Little Man,
Surgeon,
Black Sheep,
the Bar-Kays,
Chris & Cosey,
DJ Sneak,
Inner City,
Icehouse,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Oblivians,
Tears for Fears,
Scott Walker,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Durutti Column,
Roxy Music,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Smoke,
Fela Kuti,
Anakelly,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Raincoats,
Suburban Knight,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Trumans Water,
John Holt,
Graham Central Station,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mars,
Interpol,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nick Fraelich,
Hoover,
Throbbing Gristle,
Essential Logic,
The Fortunes,
Skarface,
Arab on Radar,
Ultimate Spinach,
Hot Snakes,
Wings,
Rakim,
10cc,
Pussy Galore,
Funky Four + One,
Oneida,
Joyce Sims,
The Black Dice,
Ice-T,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sound Behaviour,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Crime,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Spandau Ballet,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.