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 Cape Verde and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Raincoats to the grunge 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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Dave Gahan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bauhaus,
Country Teasers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brothers Johnson,
Buzzcocks,
Drexciya,
The Victims,
Kurtis Blow,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fat Boys,
The Fugs,
The Gladiators,
Angry Samoans,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jawbox,
Anakelly,
The Durutti Column,
the Slits,
The Divine Comedy,
The Moleskins,
H. Thieme,
X-102,
Camouflage,
Ten City,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Barracudas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Leonard Cohen,
Fort Wilson Riot,
T. Rex,
Slave,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Seeds,
Amazonics,
Oblivians,
Wasted Youth,
Soft Cell,
the Soft Cell,
The Fortunes,
Althea and Donna,
Shoche,
Pussy Galore,
Hasil Adkins,
The Motions,
Marcia Griffiths,
June of 44,
Absolute Body Control,
The Cramps,
These Immortal Souls,
Nik Kershaw,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Skriet,
Gang Starr,
Rotary Connection,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.