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 Spain and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Slave to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Cymande,
Anakelly,
Rod Modell,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Remains,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Easy Going,
Ituana,
Aural Exciters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Don Cherry,
Pylon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fela Kuti,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Tommy Roe,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Gang of Four,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Marmalade,
Bauhaus,
Moebius,
The Pretty Things,
Matthew Bourne,
The New Christs,
The J.B.'s,
Trumans Water,
PIL,
Pharoah Sanders,
Frankie Knuckles,
Black Moon,
Thee Headcoats,
The Dirtbombs,
Oneida,
Robert Görl,
Gang Gang Dance,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Popol Vuh,
Idris Muhammad,
Desert Stars,
These Immortal Souls,
The Real Kids,
The Techniques,
Rapeman,
Ten City,
Tom Boy,
The Star Department,
Bill Near,
Malaria!,
Freddie Wadling,
Rufus Thomas,
Motorama,
Yaz,
Blancmange,
Lee Hazlewood,
Au Pairs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Depeche Mode,
Colin Newman,
Soft Cell,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.