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 Burkina and from Mexico City.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Depeche Mode to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Move. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Blancmange,
Siglo XX,
Essential Logic,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lungfish,
Patti Smith,
John Lydon,
The Wake,
Cybotron,
Metal Thangz,
AZ,
Hashim,
Heaven 17,
Wire,
Smog,
Roger Hodgson,
John Holt,
Scan 7,
Ice-T,
The Residents,
JFA,
Bluetip,
Blake Baxter,
The Martian,
Kerri Chandler,
Symarip,
Minor Threat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Skaos,
Unwound,
Depeche Mode,
Pharoah Sanders,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Au Pairs,
Matthew Halsall,
Blossom Toes,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sex Pistols,
Yazoo,
The Trojans,
Wolf Eyes,
Inner City,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fuzztones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Tom Boy,
Thee Headcoats,
Donald Byrd,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
X-101,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Scrapy,
the Human League,
Iggy Pop,
X-102,
Supertramp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.