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 Maldives and from New York.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gang of Four to the dance 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 Lakeside. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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 Busters,
Tropical Tobacco,
Depeche Mode,
Interpol,
Yazoo,
Fluxion,
Buzzcocks,
Half Japanese,
Soulsonic Force,
The Cramps,
Peter and Kerry,
Marshall Jefferson,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Dead C,
The Beau Brummels,
Angry Samoans,
Public Enemy,
AZ,
DJ Style,
Lebanon Hanover,
Porter Ricks,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Slackers,
The Blackbyrds,
Fat Boys,
Negative Approach,
Wings,
EPMD,
The Real Kids,
Bang On A Can,
Nico,
Gabor Szabo,
The Monks,
U.S. Maple,
Marc Almond,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Sherman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Terry Callier,
James White and The Blacks,
Blancmange,
The Durutti Column,
Fear,
Nik Kershaw,
A Certain Ratio,
Panda Bear,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rod Modell,
The Dirtbombs,
Deakin,
The Seeds,
Hasil Adkins,
Sällskapet,
The Neon Judgement,
Ash Ra Tempel,
cv313,
Jeff Mills,
The Raincoats,
The J.B.'s,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.