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 Monaco and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 linndrum 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 Goldenarms to the rap 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 It's A Beautiful Day. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Mills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Sun City Girls,
The Music Machine,
Ultra Naté,
Fat Boys,
The Real Kids,
Bootsy Collins,
Cal Tjader,
Siglo XX,
Intrusion,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Drexciya,
Altered Images,
Jawbox,
The Beau Brummels,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Todd Terry,
Stereo Dub,
Urselle,
Sparks,
The Gories,
Ralphi Rosario,
Alton Ellis,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Sonics,
Tears for Fears,
X-Ray Spex,
The Durutti Column,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sam Rivers,
Matthew Halsall,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lalann,
The Mummies,
The Fugs,
Minutemen,
Rosa Yemen,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Leonard Cohen,
DJ Style,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Negative Approach,
Faraquet,
Sight & Sound,
Chrome,
Marshall Jefferson,
Al Stewart,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harmonia,
Visage,
Roy Ayers,
Camouflage,
The Stooges,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Brick,
The Modern Lovers,
Barry Ungar,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.