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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Manila.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Camouflage to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Excepter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Angry Samoans,
Nirvana,
Oblivians,
Al Stewart,
Motorama,
David Axelrod,
The Fall,
Suburban Knight,
Parry Music,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kerri Chandler,
Marcia Griffiths,
Alice Coltrane,
Howard Jones,
Jeff Lynne,
Prince Buster,
Shoche,
Jesper Dahlback,
Japan,
Hasil Adkins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rod Modell,
The Mojo Men,
This Heat,
Babytalk,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sonic Youth,
Cameo,
Marc Almond,
The Toasters,
Flamin' Groovies,
U.S. Maple,
Main Source,
Khruangbin,
Television,
Slave,
Magma,
Eric Copeland,
Funky Four + One,
L. Decosne,
Flipper,
Tommy Roe,
Gang Green,
kango's stein massive,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gabor Szabo,
Roxette,
Fad Gadget,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lyres,
Gil Scott Heron,
Hashim,
Pet Shop Boys,
Skriet,
Dual Sessions,
Monolake,
Black Sheep,
Model 500,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.