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 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Albert Ayler to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Harpers Bizarre,
Funkadelic,
Cluster,
These Immortal Souls,
Wally Richardson,
Judy Mowatt,
The Electric Prunes,
Absolute Body Control,
Cheater Slicks,
Mark Hollis,
Quadrant,
Country Joe & The Fish,
June of 44,
Oneida,
Bob Dylan,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Raincoats,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dawn Penn,
Suicide,
KRS-One,
Anthony Braxton,
Nick Fraelich,
the Slits,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Tremeloes,
Dennis Brown,
Todd Terry,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Con Funk Shun,
R.M.O.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bill Wells,
Moby Grape,
Drive Like Jehu,
Vladislav Delay,
L. Decosne,
Marcia Griffiths,
Josef K,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sight & Sound,
Simply Red,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Johnny Osbourne,
Interpol,
The J.B.'s,
Khruangbin,
Gil Scott Heron,
Swell Maps,
Blancmange,
The Durutti Column,
The Cure,
Todd Rundgren,
Agitation Free,
Traffic Nightmare,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stiv Bators,
The Monks,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.