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 Bolivia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Drive Like Jehu to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dennis Brown. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Howard Jones,
Mark Hollis,
The Monks,
The Tremeloes,
Curtis Mayfield,
The New Christs,
Zapp,
Steve Hackett,
Connie Case,
Technova,
Essential Logic,
Ten City,
Nick Fraelich,
Maleditus Sound,
Section 25,
Joy Division,
Althea and Donna,
Television,
KRS-One,
Tomorrow,
Eric Copeland,
Deepchord,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Carl Craig,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Mummies,
Metal Thangz,
Sister Nancy,
Kas Product,
The Fugs,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Idris Muhammad,
The American Breed,
The Slits,
Camouflage,
Ludus,
The Fuzztones,
Black Bananas,
Clear Light,
Flipper,
Bill Wells,
Hot Snakes,
Brand Nubian,
Throbbing Gristle,
Malaria!,
the Slits,
Neu!,
Duran Duran,
The Selecter,
AZ,
Wally Richardson,
Hardrive,
Mission of Burma,
The Angels of Light,
The Cramps,
John Holt,
Reagan Youth,
Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin, Kenny Larkin.
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.