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 Bolivia and from Taipei.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Beijing.
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 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 Robert Palmer 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Heaven 17 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Al Stewart,
The Electric Prunes,
The Toasters,
Lungfish,
Drive Like Jehu,
New York Dolls,
Severed Heads,
Althea and Donna,
Q and Not U,
OOIOO,
Girls At Our Best!,
Chrome,
Crime,
Marvin Gaye,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grandmaster Flash,
48th St. Collective,
Albert Ayler,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Harmonia,
Don Cherry,
Absolute Body Control,
Ossler,
Glenn Branca,
Nils Olav,
Lou Christie,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Cure,
Bush Tetras,
June Days,
Sandy B,
Nation of Ulysses,
The American Breed,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sarah Menescal,
Alton Ellis,
AZ,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slackers,
The Trojans,
Babytalk,
Agitation Free,
Vainqueur,
Icehouse,
Magma,
Boz Scaggs,
DJ Style,
FM Einheit,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pantaleimon,
The Evens,
Mars,
Scientists,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Pretty Things,
Colin Newman,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.