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 New Zealand and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Eve St. Jones to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Skarface,
Dennis Brown,
The Grass Roots,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Hardrive,
Roxy Music,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Surgeon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cluster,
Robert Görl,
The Gories,
Erasure,
Eric Dolphy,
Moby Grape,
Amon Düül II,
KRS-One,
the Soft Cell,
The Real Kids,
Joey Negro,
Jawbox,
The Neon Judgement,
The Blackbyrds,
F. McDonald,
The Black Dice,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Oneida,
Y Pants,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Adolescents,
Kevin Saunderson,
Susan Cadogan,
Von Mondo,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Coltrane,
Eric Copeland,
Scott Walker,
Grauzone,
E-Dancer,
Prince Buster,
JFA,
Bootsy Collins,
The Knickerbockers,
Sällskapet,
Warren Ellis,
Sun City Girls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Thompson Twins,
MC5,
The Martian,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ituana,
Bill Near,
Duran Duran,
Negative Approach,
Lungfish,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Evens,
Curtis Mayfield,
Suicide,
Yazoo,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.