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 Luxembourg and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 synthesizer 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 Eve St. Jones to the crunk 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Second Layer record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bad Manners,
Visage,
Technova,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sonny Sharrock,
DJ Style,
Dorothy Ashby,
Massinfluence,
Theoretical Girls,
Ken Boothe,
Rekid,
The Slackers,
The Grass Roots,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Invisible,
The Slits,
Jeff Mills,
Roy Ayers,
48th St. Collective,
The Moody Blues,
U.S. Maple,
Aloha Tigers,
Deadbeat,
Amon Düül,
Underground Resistance,
Barrington Levy,
Duran Duran,
In Retrospect,
Suburban Knight,
Malaria!,
Smog,
the Swans,
Depeche Mode,
Sixth Finger,
Bill Near,
K-Klass,
June of 44,
Khruangbin,
Ohio Players,
Porter Ricks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Patti Smith,
Siglo XX,
Piero Umiliani,
Country Teasers,
Kaleidoscope,
Brick,
the Soft Cell,
Fear,
Newcleus,
JFA,
Sugar Minott,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Tremeloes,
Swans,
X-102,
T.S.O.L.,
Ultra Naté,
Supertramp,
Outsiders,
The Red Krayola,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.