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 Ethiopia and from Bremen.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Robert Wyatt to the rap 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 Adolescents. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drexciya record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
The Blues Magoos,
Aaron Thompson,
The Victims,
Anthony Braxton,
Sex Pistols,
The Human League,
Blancmange,
L. Decosne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lakeside,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
T. Rex,
The Cure,
Fatback Band,
Pantaleimon,
Aswad,
The Fugs,
Y Pants,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Selecter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
kango's stein massive,
The Raincoats,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Severed Heads,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rites of Spring,
Lower 48,
Eve St. Jones,
Black Flag,
Stetsasonic,
The Alarm Clocks,
Spandau Ballet,
The Moleskins,
Judy Mowatt,
Cameo,
Scion,
Faraquet,
Hashim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Easy Going,
Roger Hodgson,
Juan Atkins,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Osbourne,
Reagan Youth,
John Coltrane,
Charles Mingus,
ABBA,
Idris Muhammad,
Panda Bear,
Moebius,
Motorama,
Rod Modell,
Camouflage,
Thompson Twins,
Warsaw,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.