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 Palau and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Last Poets 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 Ultramagnetic MC's. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
the Association,
Roy Ayers,
Camouflage,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Wake,
Von Mondo,
UT,
Andrew Hill,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Liliput,
Anakelly,
Byron Stingily,
Wire,
Fela Kuti,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Skriet,
Cal Tjader,
Pylon,
the Fania All-Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Saints,
The Gun Club,
Blossom Toes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Prince Buster,
Howard Jones,
June Days,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Grass Roots,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The United States of America,
Main Source,
China Crisis,
The Electric Prunes,
Pantytec,
Wolf Eyes,
Heaven 17,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Smoke,
Skaos,
Half Japanese,
One Last Wish,
F. McDonald,
Depeche Mode,
Joy Division,
Chris Corsano,
Tim Buckley,
Jacques Brel,
Derrick May,
John Coltrane,
The Golliwogs,
Steve Hackett,
Big Daddy Kane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Black Sheep,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sugar Minott,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.