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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Manchester.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Neil Young to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every L. Decosne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
Max Romeo,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Cluster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
ABBA,
Bang On A Can,
Popol Vuh,
Oneida,
Kayak,
Sex Pistols,
L. Decosne,
Con Funk Shun,
Magazine,
Minutemen,
Heaven 17,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Searchers,
Yellowson,
Ohio Players,
The Velvet Underground,
China Crisis,
Magma,
The Raincoats,
Altered Images,
Animal Collective,
The Skatalites,
Drexciya,
Country Teasers,
Boredoms,
Alison Limerick,
Icehouse,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sandy B,
The Vogues,
Porter Ricks,
Anakelly,
Barbara Tucker,
Whodini,
The Star Department,
Zero Boys,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobby Sherman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ice-T,
Japan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Laurel Aitken,
Yaz,
The Monochrome Set,
Dave Gahan,
Warsaw,
Alton Ellis,
Sight & Sound,
PIL,
Outsiders,
Man Eating Sloth,
Deakin,
Parry Music,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.