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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the rock 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Sound Behaviour,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Con Funk Shun,
Robert Wyatt,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Babytalk,
Aswad,
Sam Rivers,
Scan 7,
The Remains,
Ponytail,
Young Marble Giants,
ABBA,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gang Green,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang Gang Dance,
Section 25,
The Moody Blues,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lungfish,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fortunes,
Black Pus,
Tres Demented,
Scrapy,
Mandrill,
Cameo,
Vainqueur,
Quantec,
Whodini,
Lou Reed,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
JFA,
Cymande,
Tropical Tobacco,
Erykah Badu,
Aural Exciters,
The Saints,
The Mummies,
Angry Samoans,
Shoche,
Byron Stingily,
Public Image Ltd.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Deepchord,
Donny Hathaway,
Lee Hazlewood,
The New Christs,
Fugazi,
Half Japanese,
Ronnie Foster,
The Gun Club,
Iggy Pop,
Robert Hood,
The Busters,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.