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 Iran and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kerrie Biddell to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Move,
Malaria!,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Smog,
Japan,
The J.B.'s,
Don Cherry,
Fela Kuti,
Ultravox,
Godley & Creme,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Maleditus Sound,
Minutemen,
Second Layer,
Scratch Acid,
Technova,
The Selecter,
Desert Stars,
Television Personalities,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Terry Callier,
Michelle Simonal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Steve Hackett,
Neu!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Youth Brigade,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tropical Tobacco,
Los Fastidios,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jacques Brel,
Gabor Szabo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aswad,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cluster,
E-Dancer,
Aloha Tigers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ken Boothe,
Gang of Four,
Hardrive,
Suicide,
Morten Harket,
Bill Near,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Dawn Penn,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Barrington Levy,
Black Pus,
New Age Steppers,
Dark Day,
Yusef Lateef,
The Motions,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.