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 Djibouti and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 snare 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 B.T. Express to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Cramps. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Idris Muhammad 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Shadows of Knight record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
The Dead C,
Von Mondo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Todd Rundgren,
Boz Scaggs,
The Five Americans,
The Busters,
One Last Wish,
MDC,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pussy Galore,
The United States of America,
Pole,
Amon Düül II,
Yusef Lateef,
The Saints,
B.T. Express,
Juan Atkins,
Flipper,
KRS-One,
48th St. Collective,
The Gladiators,
Circle Jerks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
These Immortal Souls,
The Evens,
Lungfish,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jesper Dahlback,
Essential Logic,
The Monochrome Set,
Eden Ahbez,
Lee Hazlewood,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Metal Thangz,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Smog,
Gang Starr,
Joey Negro,
Lucky Dragons,
Nils Olav,
Janne Schatter,
Fugazi,
Y Pants,
Qualms,
Roger Hodgson,
Eli Mardock,
The Young Rascals,
10cc,
Depeche Mode,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ralphi Rosario,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Byron Stingily,
Pylon,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Index,
Moebius,
Soul II Soul,
U.S. Maple,
The Blues Magoos,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.