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 Bahamas and from Tokyo.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the jazz 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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Pulsallama,
The Divine Comedy,
Barrington Levy,
the Human League,
Thee Headcoats,
AZ,
Nirvana,
The Index,
The Gories,
Tomorrow,
Pere Ubu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scan 7,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Monochrome Set,
Pylon,
The Leaves,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Warren Ellis,
Simply Red,
Sugar Minott,
Charles Mingus,
Ohio Players,
The Names,
Ludus,
Mad Mike,
MC5,
Infiniti,
Chris Corsano,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Brick,
Aural Exciters,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Arab on Radar,
Supertramp,
Nation of Ulysses,
John Lydon,
John Cale,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tubeway Army,
Scott Walker,
Chrome,
Nick Fraelich,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sonic Youth,
Lou Christie,
Hot Snakes,
Hardrive,
Outsiders,
Wolf Eyes,
E-Dancer,
Cymande,
Lalo Schifrin,
Babytalk,
Newcleus,
Public Enemy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sex Pistols,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.