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 Guatemala and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Donald Fagen 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 Pere Ubu to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Thee Headcoats. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
X-102,
The Count Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Half Japanese,
The Litter,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Stereo Dub,
Gichy Dan,
Crime,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sound Behaviour,
Matthew Halsall,
Mandrill,
Piero Umiliani,
Joyce Sims,
Jerry's Kids,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Patti Smith,
Anthony Braxton,
Girls At Our Best!,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mars,
Talk Talk,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Janne Schatter,
Shoche,
Severed Heads,
Rhythm & Sound,
Trumans Water,
Whodini,
Intrusion,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Erykah Badu,
The Smoke,
The Happenings,
Young Marble Giants,
Easy Going,
Gregory Isaacs,
New York Dolls,
Make Up,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Residents,
Franke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kerri Chandler,
Ice-T,
Monolake,
Rufus Thomas,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Silicon Teens,
Connie Case,
Pantaleimon,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ronan,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.