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 Argentina and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord 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 Ronnie Foster to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
T. Rex,
Ten City,
Iggy Pop,
Masters at Work,
The Moody Blues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Severed Heads,
Infiniti,
The Golliwogs,
Rekid,
Piero Umiliani,
H. Thieme,
T.S.O.L.,
Tubeway Army,
Lindisfarne,
Ronnie Foster,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nation of Ulysses,
Dawn Penn,
Maurizio,
Adolescents,
Kenny Larkin,
Neil Young,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dual Sessions,
Kurtis Blow,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Radiohead,
Pere Ubu,
Soul II Soul,
The Monks,
Sparks,
Monks,
the Association,
Black Pus,
The Dirtbombs,
Gichy Dan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bronski Beat,
Rapeman,
Second Layer,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Flamin' Groovies,
Zero Boys,
Warren Ellis,
Gerry Rafferty,
Patti Smith,
Sun Ra,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Fear,
Sight & Sound,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lungfish,
Bobby Byrd,
the Germs,
ABBA,
Jimmy McGriff,
New Age Steppers,
the Swans,
The Blackbyrds,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.