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 Ireland and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roxy Music,
Goldenarms,
Susan Cadogan,
48th St. Collective,
CMW,
Radiopuhelimet,
10cc,
New Order,
Joensuu 1685,
Colin Newman,
Sex Pistols,
Procol Harum,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Newcleus,
Morten Harket,
Urselle,
Arab on Radar,
Maleditus Sound,
Little Man,
New York Dolls,
The Fortunes,
Robert Hood,
Scion,
Dawn Penn,
La Düsseldorf,
Wings,
Yellowson,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
New Age Steppers,
Reuben Wilson,
Dorothy Ashby,
the Slits,
Quando Quango,
The Gun Club,
Lightning Bolt,
The Mojo Men,
Moebius,
Delon & Dalcan,
Severed Heads,
Can,
The Motions,
Con Funk Shun,
Thee Headcoats,
Heaven 17,
Gang of Four,
Cybotron,
UT,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eric Copeland,
8 Eyed Spy,
Byron Stingily,
Peter & Gordon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gregory Isaacs,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Suburban Knight,
Graham Central Station,
Brick,
The Dirtbombs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Subhumans,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.