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 Panama and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Organ to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a güiro and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
The Golliwogs,
H. Thieme,
Derrick Morgan,
Rosa Yemen,
L. Decosne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ronnie Foster,
Eli Mardock,
Saccharine Trust,
Davy DMX,
Black Flag,
Anakelly,
The Moody Blues,
Porter Ricks,
Matthew Bourne,
Aural Exciters,
Jerry's Kids,
Lou Reed,
Juan Atkins,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Radio Birdman,
Mo-Dettes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Can,
Yazoo,
Ituana,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Alice Coltrane,
The Happenings,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Skatalites,
Iggy Pop,
Brick,
Bobby Sherman,
Infiniti,
John Lydon,
The Five Americans,
June of 44,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pussy Galore,
Drexciya,
The Fall,
Main Source,
Rhythm & Sound,
Terry Callier,
the Swans,
a-ha,
Panda Bear,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Slits,
Boogie Down Productions,
The American Breed,
Goldenarms,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Throbbing Gristle,
Ossler,
Charles Mingus,
Steve Hackett,
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.