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 Bangladesh and from Copenhagen.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Taipei.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eric Copeland 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Make Up,
Ponytail,
Harry Pussy,
The Victims,
Country Teasers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Byron Stingily,
Ronnie Foster,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Wings,
Dead Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Jerry's Kids,
Banda Bassotti,
Fluxion,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Tremeloes,
Stiv Bators,
The Motions,
Marvin Gaye,
Vainqueur,
Easy Going,
Urselle,
Vladislav Delay,
Moby Grape,
Colin Newman,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fela Kuti,
Black Pus,
Young Marble Giants,
Echospace,
Leonard Cohen,
Joe Smooth,
The Barracudas,
World's Most,
Brand Nubian,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Germs,
AZ,
Rites of Spring,
Gang Green,
Roxy Music,
Anakelly,
Fugazi,
Au Pairs,
These Immortal Souls,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Model 500,
Gichy Dan,
Desert Stars,
The Fall,
The Young Rascals,
Depeche Mode,
Black Sheep,
Don Cherry,
Buzzcocks,
The Birthday Party,
Siglo XX,
Brick,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.