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 Costa Rica and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Todd Terry to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
Pere Ubu,
The Mummies,
Sonic Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
Animal Collective,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Move,
Make Up,
Peter and Kerry,
Babytalk,
John Holt,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mo-Dettes,
Funkadelic,
Inner City,
Amon Düül,
Gang Green,
T.S.O.L.,
Intrusion,
Angry Samoans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Charles Mingus,
Josef K,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bad Manners,
Bobby Sherman,
Brass Construction,
Flamin' Groovies,
Index,
Laurel Aitken,
DJ Style,
The Dead C,
Archie Shepp,
Los Fastidios,
Tommy Roe,
Quando Quango,
Moss Icon,
Joensuu 1685,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Last Poets,
Khruangbin,
Scientists,
World's Most,
The Divine Comedy,
Country Teasers,
John Foxx,
DJ Sneak,
Bob Dylan,
Dave Gahan,
Henry Cow,
Bobby Byrd,
Bill Wells,
Marcia Griffiths,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Motions,
Kenny Larkin,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nirvana,
Rhythm & Sound,
Newcleus,
Main Source,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.