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 Ethiopia and from Copenhagen.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Thompson Twins to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Rapeman,
Visage,
Bobby Sherman,
MDC,
Mantronix,
Angry Samoans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobby Womack,
Moby Grape,
Fat Boys,
Bill Wells,
Derrick Morgan,
Maleditus Sound,
Accadde A,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Crime,
The Raincoats,
Fear,
Deadbeat,
The Beau Brummels,
Flamin' Groovies,
Interpol,
Dave Gahan,
The Names,
This Heat,
The Slits,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Faust,
Lalann,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marvin Gaye,
Tropical Tobacco,
Parry Music,
The Velvet Underground,
The Count Five,
T. Rex,
KRS-One,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Fatback Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Negative Approach,
Matthew Bourne,
Soul II Soul,
Gang of Four,
Sight & Sound,
the Association,
The Tremeloes,
Glenn Branca,
The Detroit Cobras,
Skarface,
Arthur Verocai,
Urselle,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Symarip,
FM Einheit,
Arcadia,
Malaria!,
The Toasters,
Young Marble Giants,
Mars,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.