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 Nigeria and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 Nas to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Moss Icon. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Moby Grape,
Suicide,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bootsy Collins,
Eric B and Rakim,
Wasted Youth,
Q and Not U,
Morten Harket,
Neil Young,
Laurel Aitken,
Thee Headcoats,
The Mojo Men,
Young Marble Giants,
Grauzone,
Electric Prunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Music Machine,
Pantaleimon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Royal Trux,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
PIL,
Gil Scott Heron,
Oblivians,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Moleskins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
a-ha,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tears for Fears,
the Normal,
Buzzcocks,
The Index,
Susan Cadogan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Groovy Waters,
Siglo XX,
Tim Buckley,
Howard Jones,
Letta Mbulu,
Minor Threat,
Stetsasonic,
Index,
Talk Talk,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
LL Cool J,
Spoonie Gee,
Arab on Radar,
Vainqueur,
Aural Exciters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Loose Ends,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lakeside,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.