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 Korea North and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Associates to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry's Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
June of 44,
New Order,
Magazine,
Bobby Sherman,
Reagan Youth,
Yellowson,
Depeche Mode,
The Flesh Eaters,
Derrick Morgan,
Ronnie Foster,
Crispy Ambulance,
Q and Not U,
Susan Cadogan,
Ultimate Spinach,
Soulsonic Force,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Blackbyrds,
The Gladiators,
DJ Style,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mission of Burma,
Sixth Finger,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Porter Ricks,
Brand Nubian,
Traffic Nightmare,
Eric Copeland,
The Gun Club,
Wings,
Grey Daturas,
Newcleus,
Avey Tare,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong,
Hoover,
Yaz,
Scan 7,
Radio Birdman,
Scrapy,
Kurtis Blow,
The Monochrome Set,
The Trojans,
John Holt,
Icehouse,
Bush Tetras,
Oblivians,
Masters at Work,
The Mojo Men,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
T.S.O.L.,
The Detroit Cobras,
Outsiders,
Mars,
The Human League,
T. Rex,
The Fuzztones,
EPMD,
Cluster,
The Standells,
Boz Scaggs,
Donald Byrd,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.