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 Mauritius and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 MC5 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Au Pairs. All the underground hits.
All Sandy B tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Hot Snakes,
John Holt,
Avey Tare,
U.S. Maple,
Eden Ahbez,
Zapp,
Con Funk Shun,
Soft Machine,
Lower 48,
Lungfish,
Eli Mardock,
Boogie Down Productions,
Circle Jerks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tim Buckley,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fear,
Magma,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Judy Mowatt,
Robert Wyatt,
Schoolly D,
The Dead C,
Steve Hackett,
Reagan Youth,
Arcadia,
Donny Hathaway,
Johnny Osbourne,
Mr. Review,
Chris & Cosey,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Wake,
The Fortunes,
Pharoah Sanders,
Underground Resistance,
David Bowie,
Marvin Gaye,
Rapeman,
Anthony Braxton,
Moby Grape,
The Kinks,
The Misunderstood,
Kevin Saunderson,
Heaven 17,
Don Cherry,
Piero Umiliani,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Model 500,
Warren Ellis,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Happenings,
Pantytec,
Johnny Clarke,
Camouflage,
Sound Behaviour,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Thompson Twins,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters, Stockholm Monsters.
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.