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 Croatia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Suicide to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Sandy B,
Second Layer,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Smoke,
The Tremeloes,
Barrington Levy,
Tears for Fears,
Nils Olav,
Zapp,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Rapeman,
Television,
Massinfluence,
The Move,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Al Stewart,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Birthday Party,
Gabor Szabo,
B.T. Express,
Heaven 17,
Amon Düül II,
Arthur Verocai,
The Selecter,
Moby Grape,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mandrill,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Leonard Cohen,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ken Boothe,
The American Breed,
The Motions,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marine Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Aswad,
Duran Duran,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Foxx,
Gichy Dan,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Certain Ratio,
Janne Schatter,
Tommy Roe,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Quando Quango,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
ABC,
UT,
The Gun Club,
Tubeway Army,
Supertramp,
Althea and Donna,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.