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 Morocco 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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tropical Tobacco to the grunge 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
The Flesh Eaters,
The United States of America,
Lee Hazlewood,
Boredoms,
Symarip,
the Association,
The Gun Club,
Lou Christie,
Mars,
Ultimate Spinach,
U.S. Maple,
Gichy Dan,
David Bowie,
The Stooges,
DJ Style,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tommy Roe,
Vladislav Delay,
Jacques Brel,
Simply Red,
Curtis Mayfield,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Doobie Brothers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bluetip,
Al Stewart,
Glambeats Corp.,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Matthew Bourne,
Blossom Toes,
Sugar Minott,
Mad Mike,
Wasted Youth,
Terrestrial Tones,
Young Marble Giants,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Easy Going,
Agent Orange,
The Gladiators,
Hot Snakes,
Joey Negro,
Joyce Sims,
One Last Wish,
Bobby Byrd,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Dirtbombs,
Faraquet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
48th St. Collective,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Marmalade,
Wolf Eyes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Grandmaster Flash,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Outsiders,
The Sound,
Skarface,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.