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 Montenegro and from New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Radio Birdman to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Mandrill,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tomorrow,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Buckinghams,
Depeche Mode,
a-ha,
Angry Samoans,
Icehouse,
Lebanon Hanover,
Amazonics,
Mars,
Ponytail,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Mojo Men,
The Slits,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lungfish,
Mantronix,
Vainqueur,
Pere Ubu,
Trumans Water,
Hot Snakes,
Janne Schatter,
Public Enemy,
A Certain Ratio,
Cymande,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Man Parrish,
Lou Reed,
ABC,
Pulsallama,
Simply Red,
Siglo XX,
Unrelated Segments,
Barrington Levy,
Carl Craig,
Duran Duran,
David Axelrod,
Surgeon,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Intrusion,
The New Christs,
Radio Birdman,
Ronan,
Sugar Minott,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bobby Womack,
Nico,
The Doors,
The Smoke,
Erykah Badu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pharoah Sanders,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.