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 East Timor and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 The Busters to the disco 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 Clear Light. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sixth Finger,
Public Image Ltd.,
Royal Trux,
Brand Nubian,
John Lydon,
Fad Gadget,
Yazoo,
Rhythm & Sound,
T.S.O.L.,
Q and Not U,
Ultra Naté,
The Move,
The Seeds,
The Dead C,
Aswad,
Camberwell Now,
Shuggie Otis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Mojo Men,
the Slits,
Delon & Dalcan,
Eve St. Jones,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Dead Boys,
Masters at Work,
Spoonie Gee,
Crispian St. Peters,
E-Dancer,
Black Pus,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Bar-Kays,
The Alarm Clocks,
Dual Sessions,
Sound Behaviour,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cybotron,
The Doors,
Dark Day,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moss Icon,
Monks,
Roger Hodgson,
Icehouse,
The Sonics,
The Trojans,
Todd Terry,
Amon Düül,
Eric Dolphy,
Sällskapet,
Donny Hathaway,
Supertramp,
Piero Umiliani,
The Red Krayola,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Animal Collective,
The Litter,
Y Pants,
Drexciya,
The J.B.'s,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.