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 Malawi and from Houston.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar 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 Dirtbombs to the electroclash 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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ultra Naté,
Letta Mbulu,
Grandmaster Flash,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rhythm & Sound,
Soft Machine,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ronnie Foster,
The Last Poets,
The Sonics,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Shoche,
Joey Negro,
Arab on Radar,
Cymande,
T. Rex,
Outsiders,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Unwound,
cv313,
Mary Jane Girls,
New Age Steppers,
The Smiths,
Jerry's Kids,
Shuggie Otis,
Mantronix,
Angry Samoans,
The Smoke,
Fat Boys,
Roxy Music,
Scratch Acid,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Pus,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Duran Duran,
Josef K,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Drive Like Jehu,
The New Christs,
Marvin Gaye,
Monks,
Sparks,
Fad Gadget,
Barry Ungar,
Oneida,
Talk Talk,
The Durutti Column,
The Velvet Underground,
Camouflage,
Tommy Roe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Godley & Creme,
The Barracudas,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Au Pairs,
Skarface,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.