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 Uruguay and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Captain Beefheart 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the techno 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 Neil Young. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Leonard Cohen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Matthew Halsall,
The Cramps,
Visage,
Maurizio,
Shoche,
Pantytec,
The Evens,
Eddi Front,
Robert Wyatt,
Lindisfarne,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Traffic Nightmare,
Youth Brigade,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Negative Approach,
Marcia Griffiths,
Juan Atkins,
Supertramp,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Public Enemy,
Country Teasers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Idris Muhammad,
The Sonics,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mad Mike,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Maleditus Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
The New Christs,
One Last Wish,
Wings,
Bobby Sherman,
L. Decosne,
Groovy Waters,
Adolescents,
Boz Scaggs,
Deepchord,
Depeche Mode,
Ultra Naté,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rekid,
Joensuu 1685,
The Names,
The Smiths,
Franke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Unrelated Segments,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wolf Eyes,
The Residents,
Dorothy Ashby,
Black Bananas,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
U.S. Maple,
Pylon,
New York Dolls,
Toni Rubio,
Scott Walker,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.