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 Luxembourg and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Move to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
John Lydon,
The Grass Roots,
The Smoke,
Patti Smith,
Skaos,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Knickerbockers,
Pylon,
Popol Vuh,
Ice-T,
Johnny Osbourne,
Supertramp,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dark Day,
New Order,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Crooked Eye,
Banda Bassotti,
These Immortal Souls,
Connie Case,
James White and The Blacks,
The Gladiators,
The Slackers,
Sister Nancy,
Joe Finger,
DNA,
Todd Rundgren,
Mad Mike,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Q and Not U,
Flipper,
Simply Red,
The Vogues,
Pierre Henry,
A Certain Ratio,
Leonard Cohen,
Second Layer,
the Germs,
Index,
Sonny Sharrock,
Magazine,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Essential Logic,
Rotary Connection,
The Sonics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Loose Ends,
Soulsonic Force,
The Mojo Men,
The Detroit Cobras,
David Bowie,
The Buckinghams,
Deepchord,
Make Up,
The Moleskins,
EPMD,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Spoonie Gee,
the Human League,
Aural Exciters,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.