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 Mozambique and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Cramps to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Heaven 17,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stockholm Monsters,
Scratch Acid,
The Barracudas,
Tommy Roe,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Erykah Badu,
Model 500,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dead Boys,
Khruangbin,
The Electric Prunes,
Johnny Clarke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ossler,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Litter,
Rakim,
Matthew Halsall,
Agitation Free,
Eddi Front,
Idris Muhammad,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Mojo Men,
Bad Manners,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Star Department,
Japan,
Faust,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Robert Wyatt,
Das Ding,
DJ Style,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Aswad,
Bang On A Can,
Camberwell Now,
Vainqueur,
The Move,
Quantec,
Organ,
Amazonics,
Public Enemy,
Eric Copeland,
Man Parrish,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Make Up,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Blackbyrds,
Television,
Procol Harum,
Eli Mardock,
The Wake,
Kerri Chandler,
The Gap Band,
Nico,
Susan Cadogan,
David McCallum,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.