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 Maldives and from Lille.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Eurythmics to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul Sonic Force record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Saints,
Sight & Sound,
Laurel Aitken,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skriet,
Joy Division,
Livin' Joy,
Severed Heads,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Donald Byrd,
The Monks,
Amon Düül,
Charles Mingus,
Eddi Front,
Cameo,
Arthur Verocai,
Rod Modell,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers,
Excepter,
Pole,
Boredoms,
New York Dolls,
Pagans,
Audionom,
The Misunderstood,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fad Gadget,
The Smoke,
The Electric Prunes,
Symarip,
The Last Poets,
Lou Christie,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Q and Not U,
Joey Negro,
Swell Maps,
Lyres,
Cybotron,
Dark Day,
Rosa Yemen,
The Detroit Cobras,
Absolute Body Control,
Smog,
Second Layer,
Dennis Brown,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
R.M.O.,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Tremeloes,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crispian St. Peters,
Parry Music,
the Germs,
The Fugs,
The Beau Brummels,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Searchers,
Wire,
The Remains,
Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys, Pet Shop Boys.
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.