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 Venezuela and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar 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 Oneida to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fall,
The Happenings,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Fugs,
DJ Style,
Television,
Talk Talk,
Colin Newman,
Black Sheep,
James White and The Blacks,
Mark Hollis,
The Music Machine,
Black Bananas,
X-Ray Spex,
John Foxx,
Deadbeat,
Aaron Thompson,
The Human League,
Boz Scaggs,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Byrd,
The Move,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Public Image Ltd.,
Harry Pussy,
FM Einheit,
Malaria!,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Blake Baxter,
Sugar Minott,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Roxette,
Neil Young,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Bar-Kays,
R.M.O.,
Neu!,
Franke,
Kas Product,
Electric Prunes,
The Trojans,
the Germs,
Babytalk,
Fugazi,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tomorrow,
Roy Ayers,
Ronnie Foster,
Tropical Tobacco,
Crime,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Lydon,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cecil Taylor,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.