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 Guatemala and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 T. Rex to the funk 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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alison Limerick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Pere Ubu,
Suburban Knight,
the Slits,
The Saints,
James White and The Blacks,
MC5,
Siglo XX,
Quadrant,
Andrew Hill,
Howard Jones,
Joy Division,
Adolescents,
The Toasters,
Parry Music,
Simply Red,
John Holt,
Byron Stingily,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Mojo Men,
Sparks,
Arthur Verocai,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Camberwell Now,
Chris & Cosey,
The Beau Brummels,
Buzzcocks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marshall Jefferson,
Black Moon,
Bobby Byrd,
The Skatalites,
Rod Modell,
Radio Birdman,
Mary Jane Girls,
In Retrospect,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pole,
Flamin' Groovies,
T.S.O.L.,
Mr. Review,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Swell Maps,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Toni Rubio,
Sound Behaviour,
Barrington Levy,
Grauzone,
Brass Construction,
Amazonics,
The United States of America,
David Axelrod,
Rites of Spring,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kool Moe Dee,
Monks,
Unwound,
The Count Five,
The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes, The Tremeloes.
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.