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 Equatorial Guinea and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 sitar 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 Count Five to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
Tomorrow,
Arab on Radar,
The Fugs,
Alice Coltrane,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Five Americans,
The Modern Lovers,
Half Japanese,
Pussy Galore,
Marcia Griffiths,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jerry's Kids,
Country Teasers,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Soft Machine,
the Association,
Motorama,
the Normal,
Peter & Gordon,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gerry Rafferty,
Second Layer,
Accadde A,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Sugar Minott,
Technova,
The Stooges,
Rotary Connection,
Camberwell Now,
The Black Dice,
The Gories,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Slave,
Harry Pussy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Rites of Spring,
Royal Trux,
Amon Düül,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Flipper,
Drexciya,
Loose Ends,
Leonard Cohen,
Urselle,
Zapp,
Mary Jane Girls,
Nirvana,
Television,
Pulsallama,
Bang On A Can,
Nik Kershaw,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Minnie Riperton,
The Count Five,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Steve Hackett,
Darondo,
Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes, Larry & the Blue Notes.
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.