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 Angola and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 rhodes 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 Amazonics to the techno 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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Section 25,
Jeff Lynne,
The Names,
Joe Finger,
Maleditus Sound,
48th St. Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Flipper,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Normal,
Blancmange,
Johnny Clarke,
Barrington Levy,
Stereo Dub,
The Skatalites,
Fugazi,
Au Pairs,
Sparks,
Masters at Work,
Camberwell Now,
Pulsallama,
The Divine Comedy,
Rotary Connection,
MC5,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sound Behaviour,
Jawbox,
Sällskapet,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gastr Del Sol,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Agent Orange,
Skaos,
The Monks,
Danielle Patucci,
Sandy B,
New York Dolls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
New Order,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minnie Riperton,
Gang of Four,
Leonard Cohen,
The Modern Lovers,
Barry Ungar,
The Offenders,
Newcleus,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Sheep,
Skriet,
This Heat,
Don Cherry,
Piero Umiliani,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cameo,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.