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 South Sudan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Siglo XX to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
F. McDonald,
Camberwell Now,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fela Kuti,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Vogues,
John Cale,
Kas Product,
Bang On A Can,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Trumans Water,
Nick Fraelich,
Delta 5,
Bauhaus,
Laurel Aitken,
Quando Quango,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mo-Dettes,
8 Eyed Spy,
Radiohead,
Black Pus,
Lee Hazlewood,
Harpers Bizarre,
Echospace,
The Monochrome Set,
Ralphi Rosario,
Urselle,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Womack,
Crooked Eye,
EPMD,
Nik Kershaw,
Wally Richardson,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang Green,
Gichy Dan,
Spoonie Gee,
The Young Rascals,
Country Teasers,
The J.B.'s,
Agitation Free,
The Grass Roots,
Agent Orange,
Eric Dolphy,
Jeff Mills,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Terry Callier,
Pole,
Ohio Players,
One Last Wish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pierre Henry,
Basic Channel,
Gang Starr,
Ronan,
Scion,
The Index,
John Coltrane,
Arthur Verocai,
Lower 48,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.