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 Kuwait and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 X-101 to the disco 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delon & Dalcan 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Bad Manners,
John Lydon,
Gang Starr,
Jacques Brel,
Vainqueur,
H. Thieme,
Crime,
Max Romeo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
ABBA,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Camberwell Now,
Peter & Gordon,
Terry Callier,
Dead Boys,
The Beau Brummels,
The Dave Clark Five,
KRS-One,
Reuben Wilson,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fugs,
Mad Mike,
Alice Coltrane,
cv313,
Michelle Simonal,
Eric Dolphy,
Von Mondo,
Maurizio,
Tommy Roe,
Chris Corsano,
Henry Cow,
Oblivians,
Sonic Youth,
Alton Ellis,
Joyce Sims,
Tears for Fears,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Mandrill,
Isaac Hayes,
Au Pairs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Buzzcocks,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Livin' Joy,
Dawn Penn,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
ABC,
Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Y Pants,
Kerrie Biddell,
Agent Orange,
Reagan Youth,
Second Layer,
New York Dolls,
Roger Hodgson,
Thompson Twins,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.