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 Kazakhstan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Los Fastidios to the grime 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 Pere Ubu. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tomorrow,
The Doors,
Dave Gahan,
10cc,
The Saints,
Crispian St. Peters,
Trumans Water,
Johnny Clarke,
Lalo Schifrin,
Blossom Toes,
Dawn Penn,
Hasil Adkins,
Pylon,
Patti Smith,
Rekid,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Offenders,
The Move,
Althea and Donna,
Gong,
Harmonia,
Byron Stingily,
The Wake,
Sight & Sound,
The Gladiators,
Dorothy Ashby,
Drexciya,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ronnie Foster,
Yellowson,
Aural Exciters,
Harry Pussy,
The Residents,
The Cosmic Jokers,
H. Thieme,
Radio Birdman,
Kurtis Blow,
Anthony Braxton,
Rufus Thomas,
Bizarre Inc.,
Urselle,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Evens,
The Raincoats,
Reagan Youth,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
MDC,
World's Most,
Spandau Ballet,
MC5,
Khruangbin,
Alphaville,
KRS-One,
Black Flag,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Knickerbockers,
Inner City,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.