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 Tonga 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pantaleimon to the techno 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crooked Eye 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?
Derrick May,
Fluxion,
Barry Ungar,
Yellowson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Invisible,
Rufus Thomas,
Joy Division,
The Happenings,
Goldenarms,
Lakeside,
The Raincoats,
Gregory Isaacs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The New Christs,
Skarface,
Amazonics,
Tommy Roe,
Ronnie Foster,
Ponytail,
Jerry's Kids,
Brick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Saccharine Trust,
Moby Grape,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
A Certain Ratio,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Cure,
Little Man,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lungfish,
Yaz,
Con Funk Shun,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Flash Fearless,
Eurythmics,
Archie Shepp,
Soft Cell,
Nils Olav,
Cheater Slicks,
Eden Ahbez,
Television Personalities,
Mo-Dettes,
Aural Exciters,
Circle Jerks,
Kurtis Blow,
The Star Department,
The Monochrome Set,
Lou Reed,
the Bar-Kays,
Eddi Front,
Gong,
Deadbeat,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ultravox,
Drexciya,
FM Einheit,
The Five Americans,
Charles Mingus,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.