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 Rwanda and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lagos.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Harpers Bizarre to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Severed Heads,
the Bar-Kays,
Cabaret Voltaire,
48th St. Collective,
the Soft Cell,
Carl Craig,
Albert Ayler,
This Heat,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Dirtbombs,
Marine Girls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Mummies,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Wally Richardson,
Ronnie Foster,
Model 500,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Icehouse,
Joyce Sims,
EPMD,
Donny Hathaway,
Yaz,
Erykah Badu,
FM Einheit,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Mo-Dettes,
The Motions,
Newcleus,
a-ha,
Anthony Braxton,
The Dave Clark Five,
Avey Tare,
The Durutti Column,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Robert Hood,
Lalann,
Lyres,
Cluster,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Adolescents,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ronan,
Lungfish,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Holt,
Lower 48,
Bob Dylan,
Gerry Rafferty,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joey Negro,
The Stooges,
Black Flag,
The Blackbyrds,
Marcia Griffiths,
Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül, Amon Düül.
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.