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 Dominican Republic and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Throbbing Gristle to the dance 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Underground Resistance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Surgeon,
The Fuzztones,
Robert Hood,
Mad Mike,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fad Gadget,
Boz Scaggs,
Prince Buster,
Sister Nancy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Althea and Donna,
Grauzone,
Newcleus,
Lightning Bolt,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crime,
Qualms,
Leonard Cohen,
Blancmange,
Warren Ellis,
Sugar Minott,
The Real Kids,
cv313,
Intrusion,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Neon Judgement,
Tommy Roe,
The Music Machine,
Pantaleimon,
A Certain Ratio,
The Walker Brothers,
Brick,
Bad Manners,
Scan 7,
Cheater Slicks,
Fluxion,
Avey Tare,
Negative Approach,
Grey Daturas,
Minny Pops,
The Invisible,
FM Einheit,
Rakim,
DJ Style,
Niagra,
Juan Atkins,
The Blues Magoos,
Skarface,
the Swans,
The American Breed,
Kayak,
the Sonics,
Alton Ellis,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
the Fania All-Stars,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.