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 Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Lyon and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba 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 Robert Görl to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bauhaus. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
the Association,
Los Fastidios,
X-101,
Nils Olav,
Bob Dylan,
Eden Ahbez,
Sonic Youth,
The Trojans,
The Searchers,
Cymande,
Peter and Kerry,
Radio Birdman,
Pierre Henry,
Funkadelic,
Wolf Eyes,
Mr. Review,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Minor Threat,
Scott Walker,
The Real Kids,
Connie Case,
Spandau Ballet,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Swell Maps,
The Seeds,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang Gang Dance,
Johnny Osbourne,
Saccharine Trust,
Young Marble Giants,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Adolescents,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Brothers Johnson,
Faust,
Chris Corsano,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Cecil Taylor,
Brass Construction,
Pussy Galore,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Tres Demented,
Slave,
Supertramp,
Second Layer,
Amon Düül II,
Nirvana,
Nick Fraelich,
The Sonics,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gregory Isaacs,
Soft Cell,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jeff Lynne,
Dave Gahan,
The Monochrome Set,
The Sound,
Mary Jane Girls,
Youth Brigade,
Electric Prunes,
The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues, The Vogues.
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.