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 Brunei and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Electric Prunes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
In Retrospect,
Robert Görl,
ABC,
Model 500,
Essential Logic,
Mantronix,
Johnny Clarke,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Inner City,
The United States of America,
a-ha,
The Raincoats,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
the Slits,
Eddi Front,
The Leaves,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Talk Talk,
Simply Red,
Scrapy,
Joyce Sims,
T. Rex,
The Gories,
These Immortal Souls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Loose Ends,
Aloha Tigers,
Supertramp,
Henry Cow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lindisfarne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Hasil Adkins,
Massinfluence,
Arthur Verocai,
The Fortunes,
the Association,
Dawn Penn,
Harry Pussy,
Juan Atkins,
Mission of Burma,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Donny Hathaway,
Dark Day,
Niagra,
Godley & Creme,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Au Pairs,
The Evens,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Brick,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barrington Levy,
the Normal,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Unrelated Segments,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.