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 Lebanon and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 marimba 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
John Foxx,
Bluetip,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Neon Judgement,
Heaven 17,
Malaria!,
Whodini,
The Misunderstood,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Holt,
Mr. Review,
The Mojo Men,
a-ha,
Mars,
Cymande,
June Days,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Bananas,
New Order,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Busters,
Black Flag,
Bobby Hutcherson,
the Association,
Ponytail,
Youth Brigade,
World's Most,
June of 44,
The Cure,
Funkadelic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
MDC,
Pylon,
Roxette,
Harmonia,
R.M.O.,
The Fuzztones,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joey Negro,
Swans,
Technova,
Mary Jane Girls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Laurel Aitken,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Smog,
Jerry Gold Smith,
La Düsseldorf,
The Skatalites,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Procol Harum,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Gang Dance,
DJ Sneak,
One Last Wish,
Joy Division,
Reagan Youth,
Sparks,
Lower 48,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.