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 Gabon and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Spandau Ballet to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Liliput tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Womack record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gichy Dan,
Ice-T,
Delon & Dalcan,
X-102,
Ken Boothe,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Swans,
The Modern Lovers,
The Names,
Grauzone,
Hardrive,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Buckinghams,
Monks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Isaac Hayes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Moebius,
New Order,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Black Dice,
UT,
B.T. Express,
Harpers Bizarre,
Schoolly D,
Basic Channel,
Kerrie Biddell,
T. Rex,
Dead Boys,
Amon Düül,
Barry Ungar,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liliput,
The Gun Club,
The Busters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Knickerbockers,
Tomorrow,
Tears for Fears,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Divine Comedy,
Faust,
Godley & Creme,
The Blues Magoos,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Traffic Nightmare,
Terry Callier,
Radio Birdman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Urselle,
Index,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Joyce Sims,
Slick Rick,
The Remains,
Kurtis Blow,
David Axelrod,
Eddi Front,
The Last Poets,
The Golliwogs,
Danielle Patucci,
Roger Hodgson,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.