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 Zimbabwe and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Soul Sonic Force to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
The Martian,
Y Pants,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fear,
The Fugs,
The New Christs,
Andrew Hill,
The Sonics,
Vladislav Delay,
Absolute Body Control,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nik Kershaw,
FM Einheit,
Banda Bassotti,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Patti Smith,
Erasure,
Vainqueur,
Agitation Free,
Tom Boy,
David Axelrod,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Move,
Rites of Spring,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Electric Prunes,
The Pop Group,
T.S.O.L.,
Funky Four + One,
Swell Maps,
Shuggie Otis,
Alice Coltrane,
DJ Sneak,
Gichy Dan,
Alphaville,
Faraquet,
Ultravox,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fire Engines,
Reuben Wilson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bronski Beat,
The Slits,
D'Angelo,
The Litter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Alarm Clocks,
Radio Birdman,
Joe Finger,
Throbbing Gristle,
Nation of Ulysses,
Liliput,
Alton Ellis,
Severed Heads,
Don Cherry,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Trojans,
Theoretical Girls,
Charles Mingus,
Bill Wells,
F. McDonald,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.