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 Korea South 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Cramps to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Move tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Carl Craig,
X-101,
Au Pairs,
Rites of Spring,
ABC,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Magma,
Eli Mardock,
Skaos,
Jacob Miller,
DNA,
Royal Trux,
Arthur Verocai,
Roxette,
Marc Almond,
The Fugs,
Max Romeo,
Camberwell Now,
Aaron Thompson,
Tom Boy,
Barrington Levy,
Liliput,
Michelle Simonal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Spoonie Gee,
The Residents,
Johnny Osbourne,
Black Bananas,
Glenn Branca,
Scott Walker,
Dawn Penn,
Henry Cow,
Pet Shop Boys,
Man Parrish,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Franke,
Sixth Finger,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Idris Muhammad,
Nico,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Buzzcocks,
Fela Kuti,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mr. Review,
Lucky Dragons,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
World's Most,
Johnny Clarke,
Malaria!,
The Victims,
Marvin Gaye,
Delta 5,
The Fuzztones,
Minutemen,
In Retrospect,
Roy Ayers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ossler,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.