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 Antigua and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron 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 Rhythim Is Rhythim to the rock 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 AZ. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythim Is Rhythim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
In Retrospect,
Wings,
Black Sheep,
Symarip,
Hardrive,
Avey Tare,
Jeff Mills,
The Dead C,
Laurel Aitken,
The Dave Clark Five,
Albert Ayler,
Carl Craig,
Khruangbin,
Boredoms,
The Beau Brummels,
48th St. Collective,
Hasil Adkins,
Warsaw,
Agitation Free,
Erykah Badu,
Eli Mardock,
Siglo XX,
Duran Duran,
Mo-Dettes,
Alton Ellis,
The Grass Roots,
Eric Copeland,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lakeside,
The Index,
Bronski Beat,
The Fortunes,
Skarface,
Stereo Dub,
David McCallum,
Hoover,
Fear,
Gil Scott Heron,
Easy Going,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hashim,
Aural Exciters,
X-102,
New Age Steppers,
Stiv Bators,
Rites of Spring,
Crime,
Bad Manners,
Arab on Radar,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lindisfarne,
Country Teasers,
Agent Orange,
Ken Boothe,
Qualms,
The Invisible,
Ultravox,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.