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 Afghanistan and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the organ 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 The Electric Prunes to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Ossler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Kenny Larkin,
Steve Hackett,
The Vogues,
Marcia Griffiths,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gerry Rafferty,
F. McDonald,
the Bar-Kays,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lower 48,
Stockholm Monsters,
Icehouse,
Soul II Soul,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Angels of Light,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Evens,
Schoolly D,
Wally Richardson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ludus,
Tubeway Army,
Pere Ubu,
Ossler,
The Skatalites,
Echospace,
Rod Modell,
Urselle,
Neil Young,
X-102,
Sun Ra,
Lightning Bolt,
Tommy Roe,
Robert Wyatt,
Lalann,
Flipper,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ohio Players,
Liliput,
The Cure,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Silicon Teens,
Absolute Body Control,
Loose Ends,
Dennis Brown,
The Beau Brummels,
Slick Rick,
The Invisible,
Hot Snakes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roxy Music,
Jeff Mills,
Henry Cow,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang of Four,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nik Kershaw,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.