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 Netherlands and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Spokane.
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 marimba 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 Sexual Harrassment 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Toni Rubio,
Crispian St. Peters,
Wire,
Lindisfarne,
Youth Brigade,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Litter,
Anthony Braxton,
Masters at Work,
Whodini,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pantaleimon,
Bang On A Can,
The J.B.'s,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Y Pants,
Groovy Waters,
Oneida,
Sarah Menescal,
Con Funk Shun,
Accadde A,
Kenny Larkin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Velvet Underground,
Bush Tetras,
The Human League,
Josef K,
Sixth Finger,
Chrome,
Soul II Soul,
F. McDonald,
Schoolly D,
Mars,
Lightning Bolt,
Cybotron,
The Index,
Crooked Eye,
Man Parrish,
Moss Icon,
Nation of Ulysses,
Anakelly,
Godley & Creme,
Radio Birdman,
Fat Boys,
Letta Mbulu,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Sisters of Mercy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Joe Finger,
The Dead C,
June of 44,
Banda Bassotti,
Fugazi,
Black Bananas,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Hardrive,
Monolake,
The Standells,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barclay James Harvest,
Porter Ricks,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.