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 Vietnam and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 Madrid and Hong Kong.
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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Wolf Eyes to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Dawn Penn,
John Coltrane,
Dead Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Mummies,
A Certain Ratio,
D'Angelo,
The Birthday Party,
The Happenings,
Underground Resistance,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Barracudas,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fall,
The Blackbyrds,
Y Pants,
Morten Harket,
Drexciya,
The Knickerbockers,
Sparks,
Pulsallama,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Residents,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Reuben Wilson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jeff Mills,
The Golliwogs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
H. Thieme,
Scrapy,
John Cale,
Kerrie Biddell,
Unrelated Segments,
Amon Düül II,
48th St. Collective,
Boredoms,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The J.B.'s,
Peter and Kerry,
June of 44,
Con Funk Shun,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fort Wilson Riot,
DJ Sneak,
Sarah Menescal,
The Cure,
Cameo,
Blake Baxter,
Gabor Szabo,
Faraquet,
Faust,
The Young Rascals,
The Real Kids,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cecil Taylor,
The Flesh Eaters,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.