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 Costa Rica and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin 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 Angry Samoans to the electroclash 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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?
Sex Pistols,
Moby Grape,
Marc Almond,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Red Krayola,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Fugs,
Altered Images,
The Moleskins,
Fat Boys,
Q and Not U,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Unrelated Segments,
Oblivians,
Magazine,
Rod Modell,
Kerrie Biddell,
Subhumans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Index,
F. McDonald,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Hot Snakes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Anakelly,
The Mummies,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Searchers,
Camouflage,
Zapp,
Scion,
James White and The Blacks,
Delta 5,
the Bar-Kays,
Scott Walker,
Fluxion,
Dave Gahan,
The Cure,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sandy B,
Pierre Henry,
the Germs,
June Days,
K-Klass,
Jandek,
The Dirtbombs,
Ludus,
The Associates,
Duran Duran,
Ken Boothe,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sugar Minott,
Cecil Taylor,
Section 25,
Curtis Mayfield,
The American Breed,
Sight & Sound,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.