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 Kuwait and from Shanghai.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Toronto.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Pere Ubu to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Hoover,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Grey Daturas,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Con Funk Shun,
Talk Talk,
John Coltrane,
June of 44,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
ABBA,
Soft Machine,
Arcadia,
Bluetip,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pole,
The Busters,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Gichy Dan,
The Wake,
Barrington Levy,
The Divine Comedy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Blake Baxter,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Curtis Mayfield,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Guru Guru,
Vladislav Delay,
Fugazi,
Fat Boys,
New York Dolls,
Sarah Menescal,
Pylon,
The Slackers,
Eric Copeland,
Magma,
Ice-T,
The Grass Roots,
Man Eating Sloth,
Janne Schatter,
Heaven 17,
Agitation Free,
Scott Walker,
Barbara Tucker,
Khruangbin,
The Associates,
Cal Tjader,
The Young Rascals,
Dawn Penn,
Morten Harket,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Kayak,
The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club, The Gun Club.
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.