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 Bahamas and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 OOIOO to the jazz 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 Radiopuhelimet. All the underground hits.
All Nik Kershaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Lou Christie,
Unrelated Segments,
Pet Shop Boys,
Yellowson,
The Victims,
The Kinks,
X-102,
The Dead C,
Rakim,
Saccharine Trust,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers,
Black Pus,
Juan Atkins,
The Dirtbombs,
MDC,
D'Angelo,
Absolute Body Control,
the Slits,
Gil Scott Heron,
Surgeon,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Finger,
Jeff Lynne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Martian,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Offenders,
Kas Product,
Cybotron,
These Immortal Souls,
Whodini,
Lou Reed,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Starr,
Swans,
Bobby Sherman,
Underground Resistance,
Scan 7,
Gang Green,
Black Sheep,
ABC,
Nas,
Stereo Dub,
Gregory Isaacs,
Don Cherry,
Au Pairs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blancmange,
Gerry Rafferty,
Althea and Donna,
The Red Krayola,
Josef K,
The Litter,
The Slits,
Qualms,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.