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 Nepal and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar 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 The Detroit Cobras to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Quando Quango,
Robert Wyatt,
Henry Cow,
Section 25,
Eric Copeland,
ABBA,
Junior Murvin,
Brass Construction,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Beau Brummels,
Flash Fearless,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Selecter,
Deakin,
Terrestrial Tones,
H. Thieme,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
X-102,
Warsaw,
Iggy Pop,
Pagans,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
John Holt,
Babytalk,
Yusef Lateef,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Matthew Bourne,
Slave,
The Mojo Men,
AZ,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Charles Mingus,
Crime,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tropical Tobacco,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Chrome,
Barbara Tucker,
The Angels of Light,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Faraquet,
Blake Baxter,
Crispian St. Peters,
Model 500,
Blancmange,
Kayak,
Wolf Eyes,
D'Angelo,
Mars,
Skarface,
the Germs,
Television Personalities,
Suicide,
Lyres,
Yellowson,
Maurizio,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.