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 Benin and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 rhodes 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 The Wake to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kurtis Blow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eden Ahbez,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Monolake,
Rites of Spring,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pole,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Unwound,
Model 500,
The Grass Roots,
Derrick May,
Dawn Penn,
The Raincoats,
Bronski Beat,
Easy Going,
Freddie Wadling,
Buzzcocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Saccharine Trust,
Symarip,
B.T. Express,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Barclay James Harvest,
Khruangbin,
Organ,
Animal Collective,
Bad Manners,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Shoche,
Thee Headcoats,
Lyres,
Desert Stars,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Searchers,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Skatalites,
Al Stewart,
Eddi Front,
Accadde A,
The Cosmic Jokers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nik Kershaw,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Todd Rundgren,
The Standells,
The Remains,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Half Japanese,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Blackbyrds,
David Axelrod,
Barrington Levy,
Babytalk,
New York Dolls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Spoonie Gee,
Cheater Slicks,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.