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 Malawi 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kenny Larkin to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Larry & the Blue Notes. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sun Ra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
X-Ray Spex,
Ituana,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Severed Heads,
Jerry Gold Smith,
H. Thieme,
Cal Tjader,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rosa Yemen,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bang On A Can,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantaleimon,
Dual Sessions,
The Monks,
Visage,
Japan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eden Ahbez,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Barbara Tucker,
UT,
Mark Hollis,
Con Funk Shun,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
T. Rex,
Mad Mike,
Tubeway Army,
Procol Harum,
Carl Craig,
Marvin Gaye,
Underground Resistance,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Scrapy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fad Gadget,
Crooked Eye,
Bill Wells,
Duran Duran,
Depeche Mode,
Cheater Slicks,
Khruangbin,
The Evens,
U.S. Maple,
E-Dancer,
Agitation Free,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Johnny Clarke,
Livin' Joy,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Pulsallama,
Make Up,
Desert Stars,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Marmalade,
Drexciya,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.