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 Somalia and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Susan Cadogan to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Gregory Isaacs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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 Fugs,
Stiv Bators,
Soft Machine,
Heaven 17,
The Blues Magoos,
Joe Finger,
the Normal,
The New Christs,
L. Decosne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Quando Quango,
The Mummies,
Tom Boy,
Pere Ubu,
Faraquet,
Scientists,
Glenn Branca,
Mars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stereo Dub,
the Association,
Unwound,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sexual Harrassment,
Magazine,
Donald Byrd,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kurtis Blow,
Bush Tetras,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Easy Going,
Delta 5,
Suicide,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grey Daturas,
The Dirtbombs,
D'Angelo,
Guru Guru,
Angry Samoans,
Whodini,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young,
Lebanon Hanover,
Severed Heads,
Sällskapet,
Gang Green,
Visage,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Pus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Model 500,
Metal Thangz,
The Raincoats,
Minny Pops,
Buzzcocks,
Eric Copeland,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moby Grape,
The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers, The Doobie Brothers.
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.