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 Oman and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 In Retrospect to the grunge 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Barry Ungar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Desert Stars,
Gang Starr,
Gang Gang Dance,
Agent Orange,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Slackers,
Young Marble Giants,
A Certain Ratio,
Drexciya,
Morten Harket,
Whodini,
Lucky Dragons,
Scratch Acid,
Motorama,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gong,
Bootsy Collins,
Fatback Band,
The Gun Club,
Fad Gadget,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Womack,
Carl Craig,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Popol Vuh,
Loose Ends,
Khruangbin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Josef K,
New Order,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Black Bananas,
Qualms,
Blancmange,
Flipper,
Kerri Chandler,
Lower 48,
Fela Kuti,
Anthony Braxton,
Yazoo,
Skaos,
Pantaleimon,
Peter & Gordon,
David Axelrod,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Maurizio,
R.M.O.,
Kerrie Biddell,
Barclay James Harvest,
Urselle,
Kas Product,
Buzzcocks,
Fear,
X-102,
Susan Cadogan,
Chris & Cosey,
Outsiders,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.