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 Tajikistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 Woodstock and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 mellotron 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 X-101 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Strawberry Alarm Clock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bill Wells,
The Selecter,
Index,
Groovy Waters,
Cymande,
Visage,
The Cowsills,
Easy Going,
Camouflage,
The Dave Clark Five,
Colin Newman,
Qualms,
OOIOO,
Parry Music,
Tres Demented,
New York Dolls,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Kinks,
Lakeside,
Intrusion,
A Certain Ratio,
The Seeds,
Das Ding,
Sound Behaviour,
Wasted Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Count Five,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lee Hazlewood,
the Bar-Kays,
Kevin Saunderson,
Brick,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Sherman,
Black Bananas,
Mantronix,
Silicon Teens,
The Toasters,
Ronnie Foster,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jerry's Kids,
New Age Steppers,
Yazoo,
Cameo,
Suburban Knight,
The Move,
Radio Birdman,
The Gladiators,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Smog,
Deepchord,
Chrome,
ABC,
John Coltrane,
Technova,
Spoonie Gee,
UT,
The Happenings,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultimate Spinach,
Piero Umiliani,
The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes, The Fortunes.
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.