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 Turkey and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kango’s Stein Massive to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
K-Klass,
Motorama,
Leonard Cohen,
Skriet,
The Cure,
Arthur Verocai,
The Residents,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Rekid,
Blossom Toes,
Lyres,
Black Sheep,
Mad Mike,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-Ray Spex,
Rotary Connection,
Johnny Clarke,
The Motions,
The Mojo Men,
The Doors,
Ultra Naté,
Rod Modell,
The Monks,
Bobby Sherman,
The Black Dice,
Grauzone,
Ultimate Spinach,
David Bowie,
Cecil Taylor,
Royal Trux,
Yaz,
David Axelrod,
The Slits,
Brick,
ABBA,
The Leaves,
John Lydon,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sister Nancy,
Swell Maps,
Au Pairs,
B.T. Express,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Danielle Patucci,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Reuben Wilson,
Jacob Miller,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Kaleidoscope,
Lightning Bolt,
Jeff Lynne,
Rufus Thomas,
Mr. Review,
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rosa Yemen,
Camouflage,
Albert Ayler,
Severed Heads,
the Germs,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.