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 Austria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 Captain Beefheart 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grime 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Black Moon,
Moby Grape,
Mr. Review,
Lee Hazlewood,
Quantec,
Sandy B,
Sixth Finger,
Terrestrial Tones,
Max Romeo,
The Zeros,
Monolake,
Alton Ellis,
The Doors,
The Knickerbockers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Golliwogs,
Lindisfarne,
Fear,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Kinks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Idris Muhammad,
Albert Ayler,
Sonny Sharrock,
Swell Maps,
Alice Coltrane,
Mark Hollis,
Man Eating Sloth,
a-ha,
Ronnie Foster,
The Angels of Light,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Womack,
Bob Dylan,
E-Dancer,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Radio Birdman,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Birthday Party,
Ronan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Associates,
Eric B and Rakim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Gun Club,
Radiohead,
Kenny Larkin,
Siglo XX,
The Saints,
Pierre Henry,
Theoretical Girls,
Japan,
Lower 48,
Eli Mardock,
Cameo,
The Last Poets,
A Certain Ratio,
Lyres,
Mad Mike,
Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott, Sugar Minott.
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.