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 Guinea and from Bologna.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin 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 Neon Judgement to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Eddi Front tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bauhaus 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aaron Thompson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
James White and The Blacks,
The Wake,
Flamin' Groovies,
ABC,
Harmonia,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boredoms,
Faust,
T. Rex,
Stockholm Monsters,
Surgeon,
Wire,
Sun Ra,
Fela Kuti,
Black Bananas,
Jeff Lynne,
Suicide,
Rod Modell,
Lou Reed,
New York Dolls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Fire Engines,
the Human League,
Joe Smooth,
Graham Central Station,
Section 25,
Mission of Burma,
Qualms,
The Last Poets,
Ronnie Foster,
Fat Boys,
The Velvet Underground,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Funky Four + One,
The Leaves,
Joy Division,
DJ Style,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Monks,
a-ha,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Beau Brummels,
Average White Band,
Royal Trux,
Make Up,
The Evens,
Hasil Adkins,
The Seeds,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wasted Youth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Country Joe & The Fish,
AZ,
The Misunderstood,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Victims,
Roger Hodgson,
The Trojans,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.