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 Greece and from London.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Buckinghams to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Crime,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Agent Orange,
Bush Tetras,
David Axelrod,
the Bar-Kays,
Dual Sessions,
Half Japanese,
Masters at Work,
Harpers Bizarre,
Monolake,
The Saints,
Mr. Review,
Visage,
Sister Nancy,
Jacques Brel,
Quadrant,
Reagan Youth,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jawbox,
the Sonics,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Martian,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ken Boothe,
Sällskapet,
Bill Near,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Nation of Ulysses,
Flamin' Groovies,
Frankie Knuckles,
48th St. Collective,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Standells,
Eric Copeland,
Todd Rundgren,
Audionom,
Soul Sonic Force,
Yellowson,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ponytail,
Theoretical Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
Terry Callier,
The Index,
Fatback Band,
Banda Bassotti,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scratch Acid,
Davy DMX,
Nirvana,
The Cure,
In Retrospect,
Radiohead,
The Dead C,
Qualms,
Harmonia,
Jerry's Kids,
The Gladiators,
Motorama,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.