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 Paraguay and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Fire Engines to the funk 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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All Gang of Four tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
Surgeon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Byron Stingily,
Desert Stars,
Marine Girls,
David McCallum,
Liliput,
Marc Almond,
Eric Copeland,
Vainqueur,
Gang Gang Dance,
EPMD,
Crime,
The Trojans,
Angry Samoans,
Subhumans,
Bobby Womack,
The Selecter,
Ossler,
Barry Ungar,
Amazonics,
The Electric Prunes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Index,
Scion,
X-101,
Archie Shepp,
Spoonie Gee,
Magma,
Section 25,
The Raincoats,
Faust,
Quantec,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
ABBA,
Sun Ra,
Marshall Jefferson,
Connie Case,
Radio Birdman,
Sister Nancy,
Harry Pussy,
The Dave Clark Five,
Suicide,
Roger Hodgson,
Pussy Galore,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Grauzone,
Susan Cadogan,
Moss Icon,
Deadbeat,
Scientists,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Isaac Hayes,
L. Decosne,
Chris Corsano,
The Pretty Things,
The Human League,
The Saints,
Jimmy McGriff,
Amon Düül II,
The Red Krayola,
Marmalade,
Youth Brigade,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.