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 Somalia and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
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 Eyeless In Gaza to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Jerry's Kids,
World's Most,
Tubeway Army,
Heaven 17,
Moby Grape,
Underground Resistance,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Wally Richardson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brand Nubian,
Scratch Acid,
Technova,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Cramps,
Max Romeo,
The Zeros,
The Residents,
Erasure,
Ituana,
Trumans Water,
Harry Pussy,
Angry Samoans,
Donny Hathaway,
Saccharine Trust,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pantytec,
Soul II Soul,
Easy Going,
KRS-One,
Isaac Hayes,
Pole,
Matthew Bourne,
Parry Music,
Radiopuhelimet,
Buzzcocks,
Mantronix,
Electric Prunes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Eyeless In Gaza,
Banda Bassotti,
H. Thieme,
Toni Rubio,
Flash Fearless,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Monolake,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Joy Division,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Five Americans,
This Heat,
Icehouse,
Visage,
New York Dolls,
Babytalk,
Prince Buster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rakim,
Second Layer,
Leonard Cohen,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.