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 Malaysia and from Portland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pierre Henry to the rap 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 Newcleus. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock 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 techno 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 arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Johnny Osbourne,
Funkadelic,
Howard Jones,
The Doors,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Blancmange,
Wire,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hashim,
The Durutti Column,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Agitation Free,
Prince Buster,
Jeru the Damaja,
Oblivians,
MC5,
8 Eyed Spy,
Funky Four + One,
The Victims,
Matthew Halsall,
Rosa Yemen,
X-102,
Pantaleimon,
Fat Boys,
Hasil Adkins,
Inner City,
Terrestrial Tones,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bang On A Can,
Bizarre Inc.,
Sparks,
FM Einheit,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Marcia Griffiths,
Crash Course in Science,
Laurel Aitken,
The Fugs,
Tres Demented,
Arab on Radar,
Sonic Youth,
Dennis Brown,
Lakeside,
Juan Atkins,
Make Up,
Can,
Absolute Body Control,
PIL,
The Dave Clark Five,
Model 500,
Bobby Sherman,
Patti Smith,
Derrick May,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Suburban Knight,
The Index,
Gang Starr,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ohio Players,
Judy Mowatt,
The Divine Comedy,
Schoolly D,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.