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 Equatorial Guinea and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 organ 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 Eli Mardock to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ludus. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dual Sessions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
F. McDonald,
Grauzone,
Max Romeo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Moody Blues,
The Sound,
Marmalade,
U.S. Maple,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Barracudas,
Scott Walker,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Pop Group,
E-Dancer,
The Moleskins,
Faraquet,
Sun City Girls,
DNA,
Quantec,
Brick,
Wasted Youth,
ABC,
Michelle Simonal,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Yaz,
Buzzcocks,
AZ,
Tommy Roe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ten City,
Lee Hazlewood,
D'Angelo,
Lungfish,
Underground Resistance,
The Victims,
The Motions,
Carl Craig,
the Soft Cell,
Cybotron,
Johnny Osbourne,
Suicide,
Mark Hollis,
Josef K,
Kas Product,
Liliput,
Lindisfarne,
Crooked Eye,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lalo Schifrin,
Boogie Down Productions,
Clear Light,
Zero Boys,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Archie Shepp,
Moby Grape,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.