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 Saudi Arabia and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Invisible to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mark Hollis,
Gang Gang Dance,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Aloha Tigers,
Spoonie Gee,
Ossler,
Mars,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lungfish,
Byron Stingily,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Brick,
The Evens,
Technova,
Ronnie Foster,
Livin' Joy,
Qualms,
Fela Kuti,
Pole,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
John Coltrane,
Thee Headcoats,
Ten City,
Scan 7,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Flag,
Spandau Ballet,
Procol Harum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bobby Byrd,
Saccharine Trust,
The Blackbyrds,
Barrington Levy,
Con Funk Shun,
Urselle,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Terry Callier,
Essential Logic,
Lightning Bolt,
Camouflage,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Stereo Dub,
The Motions,
Gong,
Gang Starr,
Subhumans,
The Sound,
MC5,
Nas,
Suicide,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Normal,
Q65,
the Fania All-Stars,
Morten Harket,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ponytail,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo.
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.