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 Iceland and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the oboe 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 Cybotron to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fatback Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Fall,
Yazoo,
Sight & Sound,
Ohio Players,
Oneida,
The Smoke,
Robert Wyatt,
Joey Negro,
Symarip,
Roy Ayers,
Unwound,
Rekid,
Drexciya,
The Leaves,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sun Ra,
cv313,
U.S. Maple,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Mojo Men,
CMW,
New Order,
Danielle Patucci,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Khruangbin,
Scott Walker,
the Germs,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Martian,
The Electric Prunes,
The Seeds,
Tomorrow,
Janne Schatter,
Masters at Work,
Freddie Wadling,
The Doors,
Connie Case,
Suburban Knight,
Bill Near,
Colin Newman,
Lou Reed,
Sparks,
Absolute Body Control,
Delta 5,
The Star Department,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Toni Rubio,
Lower 48,
Alice Coltrane,
Agent Orange,
a-ha,
Animal Collective,
Sonic Youth,
Deepchord,
Hasil Adkins,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Agitation Free,
Marvin Gaye,
Roxy Music,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.