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 Kyrgyzstan and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 guitar 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 Flamin' Groovies to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Minor Threat,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Normal,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Morten Harket,
Sixth Finger,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Young Rascals,
David Axelrod,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rekid,
The Dead C,
Quadrant,
FM Einheit,
The Buckinghams,
The Dirtbombs,
The Vogues,
Sister Nancy,
ABBA,
The Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Television,
Jandek,
Shuggie Otis,
Joy Division,
Wolf Eyes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gregory Isaacs,
L. Decosne,
Iggy Pop,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Warren Ellis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mad Mike,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
James White and The Blacks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Barry Ungar,
Neil Young,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fuzztones,
Funkadelic,
Curtis Mayfield,
D'Angelo,
Skarface,
The Happenings,
U.S. Maple,
Lower 48,
The Durutti Column,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cameo,
The Gladiators,
Yaz,
Babytalk,
X-102,
Siglo XX,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Busters,
Lightning Bolt,
The American Breed,
Fatback Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.