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 Guinea and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the crunk 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 UT. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alice Coltrane,
Rakim,
The Birthday Party,
10cc,
Country Teasers,
Skarface,
Ultravox,
Bang On A Can,
Joyce Sims,
The Human League,
Spoonie Gee,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mission of Burma,
Gang Gang Dance,
The American Breed,
Gang of Four,
The Offenders,
Tim Buckley,
Johnny Clarke,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Fire Engines,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Brand Nubian,
Index,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Arcadia,
Crooked Eye,
The Last Poets,
Cluster,
The Buckinghams,
Parry Music,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
ABC,
Saccharine Trust,
Sällskapet,
H. Thieme,
Brothers Johnson,
The Toasters,
Thompson Twins,
John Cale,
The Sonics,
Stetsasonic,
T. Rex,
The Red Krayola,
Clear Light,
Gabor Szabo,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marine Girls,
Soft Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Harry Pussy,
Magazine,
Deadbeat,
K-Klass,
X-102,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scratch Acid,
Radiohead,
Tears for Fears,
Zero Boys,
Underground Resistance,
Scan 7,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.