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 Rwanda and from Stockholm.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Mr. Review to the techno 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Sight & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronnie Foster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
R.M.O.,
Half Japanese,
Deakin,
The United States of America,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jerry's Kids,
The Gladiators,
Subhumans,
Jeff Lynne,
Jeru the Damaja,
Henry Cow,
Lakeside,
Dawn Penn,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Monks,
Scott Walker,
Andrew Hill,
Marvin Gaye,
Gang Starr,
Wasted Youth,
Supertramp,
Scientists,
Second Layer,
Godley & Creme,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Wyatt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Barry Ungar,
Crime,
Ossler,
Inner City,
Procol Harum,
Nas,
Crooked Eye,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Seeds,
Swans,
Simply Red,
Motorama,
The Vogues,
Susan Cadogan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Donny Hathaway,
Yusef Lateef,
The American Breed,
Joe Smooth,
the Bar-Kays,
Alison Limerick,
June of 44,
Curtis Mayfield,
Cluster,
H. Thieme,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Rapeman,
The Slackers,
Glenn Branca,
Outsiders,
Wolf Eyes,
Depeche Mode,
Ralphi Rosario,
Max Romeo,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.