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 Gambia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Amon Düül II to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Gang Green,
Ken Boothe,
Matthew Bourne,
Bad Manners,
Ossler,
The Grass Roots,
The Moleskins,
Youth Brigade,
Pagans,
The Litter,
The Smiths,
Sällskapet,
Simply Red,
Dennis Brown,
Jeru the Damaja,
Boz Scaggs,
Bobby Sherman,
Amon Düül,
China Crisis,
The Golliwogs,
Saccharine Trust,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
UT,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sugar Minott,
The Tremeloes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Talk Talk,
The Fire Engines,
Buzzcocks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crime,
Robert Wyatt,
DNA,
Andrew Hill,
Minor Threat,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Dirtbombs,
The Move,
Harry Pussy,
Mark Hollis,
the Human League,
Kenny Larkin,
The New Christs,
Derrick Morgan,
Terry Callier,
The Durutti Column,
X-102,
Rod Modell,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Gories,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Prince Buster,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.