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 Zimbabwe and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Todd Terry to the dance 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 Yellowson. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Manfred Mann's Earth Band 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
Rites of Spring,
Jeff Mills,
The Monks,
Agent Orange,
Blancmange,
Matthew Bourne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Steve Hackett,
Negative Approach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang of Four,
The Fugs,
X-102,
Lakeside,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Bauhaus,
Soulsonic Force,
Stereo Dub,
Lucky Dragons,
the Swans,
Whodini,
The Cowsills,
Susan Cadogan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dual Sessions,
Barry Ungar,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nik Kershaw,
Michelle Simonal,
Kerrie Biddell,
Magma,
Y Pants,
Carl Craig,
Minutemen,
Electric Prunes,
Faraquet,
Tomorrow,
Metal Thangz,
Eve St. Jones,
the Association,
Erykah Badu,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Byrd,
Nils Olav,
Easy Going,
The Mummies,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gang Gang Dance,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Wyatt,
Reuben Wilson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wolf Eyes,
The Martian,
Graham Central Station,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.