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 Tanzania and from Jakarta.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 James White and The Blacks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
The Selecter,
The Doors,
Flipper,
Rapeman,
Lebanon Hanover,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Jeff Lynne,
Marc Almond,
Letta Mbulu,
The Leaves,
Mandrill,
Mary Jane Girls,
Juan Atkins,
Unwound,
Wings,
Ronan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Black Pus,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pagans,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dead Boys,
LL Cool J,
Funky Four + One,
Siglo XX,
Procol Harum,
Davy DMX,
Au Pairs,
The Techniques,
Vladislav Delay,
X-101,
Chris Corsano,
Amazonics,
Franke,
Scan 7,
Slave,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gong,
The Tremeloes,
Jawbox,
Spandau Ballet,
Blossom Toes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lou Christie,
The Divine Comedy,
Sun Ra,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cramps,
Brand Nubian,
John Holt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mr. Review,
Jimmy McGriff,
Godley & Creme,
Anakelly,
the Soft Cell,
Deadbeat,
The Gladiators,
Scott Walker,
Kas Product,
Can, Can, Can, Can.
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.