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 Brazil and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the 808 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 The Flesh Eaters to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 ABC. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Holt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Roger Hodgson,
The Grass Roots,
The Doors,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Iggy Pop,
The J.B.'s,
Bluetip,
Heaven 17,
Piero Umiliani,
The Real Kids,
Mad Mike,
Lower 48,
Scrapy,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yaz,
Don Cherry,
The American Breed,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rapeman,
Swans,
The Moody Blues,
The Smoke,
Marc Almond,
Ice-T,
Arab on Radar,
Sonny Sharrock,
Camouflage,
Tubeway Army,
Gang Green,
Dead Boys,
Arcadia,
Spandau Ballet,
Letta Mbulu,
Swell Maps,
the Normal,
Mandrill,
The Misunderstood,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joe Smooth,
John Lydon,
Symarip,
Jeru the Damaja,
Crime,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Youth Brigade,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sun City Girls,
Avey Tare,
The Doobie Brothers,
Todd Rundgren,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Dirtbombs,
Hoover,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
T.S.O.L.,
PIL,
Black Pus,
Sonic Youth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Vainqueur,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.