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 Brazil and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 oboe 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All X-102 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
The Gun Club,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fluxion,
Electric Prunes,
The Tremeloes,
The Blackbyrds,
The J.B.'s,
The Doors,
The Fire Engines,
the Normal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Altered Images,
Aaron Thompson,
Cheater Slicks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Bar-Kays,
Echospace,
Ronnie Foster,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Liliput,
Excepter,
The Dead C,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Index,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
New York Dolls,
The Evens,
Kerri Chandler,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wolf Eyes,
Rekid,
Little Man,
Television,
Moebius,
Rod Modell,
Malaria!,
Wings,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mars,
Neu!,
Yellowson,
Eli Mardock,
Danielle Patucci,
The Offenders,
Blake Baxter,
Ice-T,
Chris Corsano,
Grey Daturas,
Oblivians,
Ludus,
Average White Band,
Arab on Radar,
The Slits,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fatback Band,
Adolescents,
Los Fastidios,
Slave,
Flipper,
Marc Almond,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.