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 Egypt and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Smog to the rock 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 Barracudas. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Mad Mike,
Deadbeat,
Slave,
Model 500,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Agitation Free,
Magma,
Swans,
The Fugs,
Bill Near,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Birthday Party,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Radio Birdman,
Hoover,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jeff Mills,
Silicon Teens,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
E-Dancer,
F. McDonald,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Move,
Banda Bassotti,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Star Department,
Pagans,
David McCallum,
Graham Central Station,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Womack,
Freddie Wadling,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Michelle Simonal,
Ronan,
48th St. Collective,
Simply Red,
Kas Product,
Supertramp,
Ultra Naté,
The Gun Club,
The Vogues,
Black Flag,
The Five Americans,
Bad Manners,
John Holt,
Reuben Wilson,
The Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Raincoats,
One Last Wish,
Minutemen,
Youth Brigade,
Gang Green,
Terry Callier,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scan 7,
John Foxx,
The Monks,
Interpol,
Faraquet,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deepchord,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.