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 Cyprus and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sex Pistols to the punk 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Royal Trux,
Tommy Roe,
Basic Channel,
The Saints,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ossler,
Ultravox,
DNA,
The Velvet Underground,
Gil Scott Heron,
D'Angelo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Goldenarms,
The Standells,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sex Pistols,
Pet Shop Boys,
Isaac Hayes,
Peter & Gordon,
The Golliwogs,
Wire,
Franke,
EPMD,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gichy Dan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeff Lynne,
Maleditus Sound,
The Kinks,
Lightning Bolt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Absolute Body Control,
Q65,
Slick Rick,
Altered Images,
Bill Wells,
Dave Gahan,
David Axelrod,
MDC,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jerry's Kids,
The Music Machine,
Barry Ungar,
PIL,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rufus Thomas,
Adolescents,
UT,
Interpol,
Oneida,
The Smoke,
Roy Ayers,
The United States of America,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.