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 Ivory Coast and from Lyon.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pussy Galore to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mojo Men 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Japan,
The Index,
Marc Almond,
Oblivians,
Bang On A Can,
The Beau Brummels,
Blancmange,
8 Eyed Spy,
Television Personalities,
Fela Kuti,
The Searchers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
MC5,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Swans,
Scan 7,
The New Christs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Neu!,
The Skatalites,
DNA,
Urselle,
Stereo Dub,
Panda Bear,
The Neon Judgement,
Leonard Cohen,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lalann,
Iggy Pop,
Matthew Halsall,
Maleditus Sound,
David McCallum,
The Knickerbockers,
Sällskapet,
Rapeman,
Crooked Eye,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jeru the Damaja,
Procol Harum,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Spandau Ballet,
Alice Coltrane,
Dave Gahan,
Mandrill,
Deakin,
Black Pus,
Arcadia,
Brand Nubian,
Symarip,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Harpers Bizarre,
Swell Maps,
Rufus Thomas,
The Cramps,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.