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 Latvia and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Red Krayola to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neu! 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Max Romeo,
Silicon Teens,
The Wake,
Skaos,
Deadbeat,
Yusef Lateef,
OOIOO,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sam Rivers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Brothers Johnson,
Angry Samoans,
Jacques Brel,
Rosa Yemen,
John Lydon,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Harpers Bizarre,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Sexual Harrassment,
David Bowie,
Gang Starr,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The American Breed,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Soft Cell,
The Standells,
F. McDonald,
Mark Hollis,
ABC,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Busters,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Kinks,
Slick Rick,
Bang On A Can,
Supertramp,
Spandau Ballet,
Gerry Rafferty,
Schoolly D,
Avey Tare,
Hot Snakes,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Maurizio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Soul II Soul,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Angels of Light,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Quando Quango,
The Seeds,
The Dead C,
Derrick Morgan,
Charles Mingus,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ohio Players,
Buzzcocks,
Black Bananas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish, Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish.
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.