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 Turkmenistan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 B.T. Express to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Pierre Henry,
10cc,
Pantytec,
Robert Wyatt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Cure,
Pulsallama,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ten City,
Scion,
The Fall,
Stereo Dub,
Isaac Hayes,
Glenn Branca,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sparks,
Ornette Coleman,
Soul II Soul,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lindisfarne,
Gerry Rafferty,
Buzzcocks,
The Gun Club,
Gabor Szabo,
Robert Görl,
Mary Jane Girls,
Chris & Cosey,
Cluster,
Minnie Riperton,
Skaos,
Robert Hood,
The Misunderstood,
T. Rex,
Urselle,
Donald Byrd,
Althea and Donna,
Reuben Wilson,
Crispy Ambulance,
Drive Like Jehu,
Unwound,
Maleditus Sound,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sarah Menescal,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Raincoats,
Tubeway Army,
Josef K,
Maurizio,
Cal Tjader,
Steve Hackett,
Magma,
Johnny Osbourne,
the Bar-Kays,
Crooked Eye,
Al Stewart,
Sonny Sharrock,
Mr. Review,
Patti Smith,
Tom Boy,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.