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 Italy and from New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Last Poets to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Spandau Ballet,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Frankie Knuckles,
Wasted Youth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Oblivians,
Absolute Body Control,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Piero Umiliani,
Mo-Dettes,
Aloha Tigers,
a-ha,
Public Enemy,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Minor Threat,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Suicide,
Panda Bear,
The Martian,
Mars,
Michelle Simonal,
Arthur Verocai,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gichy Dan,
Y Pants,
Depeche Mode,
Cabaret Voltaire,
China Crisis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Chris Corsano,
Qualms,
The Golliwogs,
Bang On A Can,
The Zeros,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ronnie Foster,
Flipper,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bill Near,
Todd Rundgren,
Matthew Halsall,
The Kinks,
One Last Wish,
Black Bananas,
the Human League,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Skarface,
Gang Gang Dance,
Organ,
Davy DMX,
Godley & Creme,
The Modern Lovers,
Guru Guru,
Radio Birdman,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minny Pops,
R.M.O.,
Franke,
Camberwell Now,
Scratch Acid,
These Immortal Souls,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.