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 Mozambique and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Soft Cell 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Josef K,
Frankie Knuckles,
Throbbing Gristle,
Parry Music,
The Neon Judgement,
The Index,
Eli Mardock,
Blossom Toes,
Crooked Eye,
Soul Sonic Force,
Saccharine Trust,
The Fugs,
Roxy Music,
Wasted Youth,
Marine Girls,
The Gap Band,
The Victims,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
MDC,
Iggy Pop,
Fela Kuti,
Barclay James Harvest,
Unwound,
The Happenings,
The Stooges,
The Count Five,
Rekid,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pantytec,
Sparks,
The Misunderstood,
Rufus Thomas,
Moebius,
Ultravox,
Jacques Brel,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rosa Yemen,
The Real Kids,
Carl Craig,
Bobby Byrd,
Harpers Bizarre,
Panda Bear,
Arcadia,
FM Einheit,
Quadrant,
La Düsseldorf,
The Evens,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Durutti Column,
Cluster,
Zapp,
Spandau Ballet,
The Electric Prunes,
In Retrospect,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mr. Review,
Jeru the Damaja,
Amazonics,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Residents,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.