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 Belgium and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fugazi,
Popol Vuh,
The Litter,
The Cramps,
Groovy Waters,
Severed Heads,
Lindisfarne,
Little Man,
Morten Harket,
Deakin,
Youth Brigade,
Jerry's Kids,
This Heat,
Con Funk Shun,
Scientists,
Lakeside,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Blackbyrds,
The Modern Lovers,
Bauhaus,
Sister Nancy,
Roy Ayers,
Easy Going,
the Bar-Kays,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
UT,
Traffic Nightmare,
Crash Course in Science,
Nick Fraelich,
Faust,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Index,
OOIOO,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sugar Minott,
Quando Quango,
Pussy Galore,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Judy Mowatt,
Fatback Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aloha Tigers,
Mr. Review,
Fad Gadget,
Shuggie Otis,
Masters at Work,
The Monks,
Unwound,
Roger Hodgson,
Junior Murvin,
Girls At Our Best!,
Harmonia,
Rod Modell,
Das Ding,
Letta Mbulu,
The Residents,
Liliput,
Curtis Mayfield,
DJ Style,
Sandy B,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.